The Kidnap
by Colin Creevey
Summary: When a Taylor boy is kidnapped, it changes everyone's lives. Parents are restless, neighbours are wary and worried, and the cops are lazy. However, one brother decides to take matters into his own hands? Can he find his brother, and make it home alive?
1. Overview

**The Kidnap **

**Chapter 1: Overview**

What would happen after a kid is kidnapped and the blame lies with another? How will the blamed feel about it all? What will he do about it? How will the victim feel towards the boy who got him into so much pain, trouble and misery?

Very few of us, if any of us, were actually kidnapped. Those of us who were are the only ones who know the true horror and pain we feel. It's not everyday we're saved either. Many times, the kidnapper wins. Will the kidnapper win this time around?

I personally wasn't ever kidnapped, so don't get any ideas. I did, however; live in that very fear for most of my childhood despite the fact a police officer was living in the neighborhood I lived in.

What happens in this story is pretty real, and none of it is fictional. The questions you must now ask yourselves after this short introduction is: How will the family feel towards the kidnap? How will the victim take it? How will the blamed feel? What efforts will be taken to secure the victim's safety? What the hell does this have to do with Home Improvement? Is the victim part of the Taylor family? If so, what does the kidnapper want with the Taylors?

Well, this time, the question may be answered in part. The kidnapper has a particular interest in a certain thing, and decides to make a hostage situation until he gets the item he desires. What is the kidnapper interested in? Well, he's interested in something recently made and developed and he wants it for his own reasons which are yet to be divulged.

This story will be suspenseful, and some parts with the appropriate humor. This is the first time I write a suspenseful story with humor in it, so be honest with me. If I am doing something wrong, please let me know.

In the subject of genres: On this site, there are so many genres: In this story, it is not very general, there is absolutely no romance, no drama, no poetry, little mystery and horror, no parody whatsoever, no supernatural, no Science fiction, no fantasy, so unspiritual, so not western, not _centered _on crime, and has no friendship. There are however, elements of Adventure, Family, Hurt/Comfort, and even a dash of humor.

As for Tragedy, I will not say anything about it. Saying its tragedy might be saying that it doesn't turn out good, and I don't wish to give the ending away. That genre should be left for endings we wish to tell the half of, so readers will get hooked. This isn't that kind of story. Whether or not this turns out good is for you to find out.

I put this story under the genres of Adventure/Family. Hurt/Comfort comes as a third category, and humor will come as a fourth. Humor is present because after seeing the Longest Day of Season 5, I noticed there being a good amount of humor for a comedy series, though touching a very serious part of life. I decided to try the same thing myself which is why I implore you all to let me know if anything is done wrong and I will surely try and fix it.

Read and find out the answer to all questions asked. This story takes place during the fifth season. I also, for suspenseful reasons, refuse to say if this story is AU, (Alternate Universe) or not.

Remember, Read and Review. HI isn't the most live category, but I know there are readers. I've been there. This is especially to hook you all, and get you interested. Enjoy.


	2. The Fight

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 2: The Fight**

The month was December. December meant one thing. The year was going nearing it's end as the holidays would come up in three weeks. As Christmas neared, Tim was starting once again to start his annual whine about Christmas lights. While Christmas was the time for Tim to put up Christmas lights, it was not so jolly where Mark and Randy were concerned.

"Randy, where's my paper?" Mark asked in a tone that suggested demand. Randy was visiting Mark in his room to try and convince him to help raise money for a school Christmas drive. Mark had already agreed.

"I dunno," Randy said tiredly, rummaging through the drawers of his former room. He was supposed to be looking for a blank paper to add his and Mark's names to it.

"I put it here," Mark whined, pointing to the study desk.

"Oh, wait, I let the hamster pee on it," Randy said calmly and regularly like it was no problem.

"WHAT? I worked on that," Mark yelled angrily.

"Yeah so, now we're even," Randy said, turning to walk out.

"Well, now you gotta do it for me, like I did yours," Mark demanded.

"Forget about it, dork," Randy laughed. "It's your fault you left it lying around."

"You're not even supposed to be here!" Mark yelled.

"It's your fault," Randy repeated. "And I'm here to add your ungrateful name to the damn paper. If you'd just tell me where the hell one is!

Randy's repetition made Mark angry. It was infuriating to see Randy taking it so calmly and wasn't even sorry for it. At least Mark was sorry for what _he _did, and even rewrote Randy's paper for him. Randy wasn't doing a thing.

Mark had decided a long time ago to fight back when he felt he was being bullied or disrespected. This time, he acted on his self-promise. Little did he know he would soon regret it? From behind his older brother, he ran up and pounced on him like an angry lion for the kill. Randy yelled angrily as Mark pulled his hair.

Randy's legs gave way, and Mark felt them both fall to the ground. Randy was on his knees. "What the hell is your problem," Randy muttered as he struggled to break free from Mark's grip.

Mark was getting a little taller than Randy, but he wasn't big enough to keep Randy down for long. After half a minute, Randy had soon recovered what had happened, and everything was soon reversed. Now, it was Mark on the floor.

Randy was mad. Very mad. Mark had never seen him so angry before. Did he really go too far in forcing Randy to the ground? Randy jumped up faster than Mark could, and kicked his fallen form. Randy didn't leave it there, either, he pounced on him exactly as Mark had done. Mark started yelling at him. "Leamme alone!"

"CRY!"

The door banged open, and in marched Jill, "What's going on here?"

"He threw my paper away!" Mark yelled.

"I said it was an accident," Randy yelled. "He started hitting!"

"I worked hard on that, till you give it to your hamster!" Mark yelled.

"That's it, get off!" Jill ordered Randy. "Randy, go back to your own room. You're not in here anymore." Randy opened his mouth to argue, but Jill cut through him, "All you've been doing these last few days is fight. Stay away from each other for the remainder of the week."

Randy got off, and ran downstairs angrily. He wasn't really the type of guy to physically fight anymore, and part of him regretted losing it like that. Well, at least he wasn't fighting Mark the way he would've done when he was younger. He only kicked him once and pounced. He doubted that Mark was actually hurt.

Jill and Mark followed Randy out of the room, but parted with him downstairs to watch Tim working on the doorbell. Jill gaped at him. "Tim, what're you doing with the doorbell?"

"Well honey, I was testing it this morning, and I… I realized that this doorbell is too low," Tim answered, connecting a wire. "So, I thought it'd need more power, Ar, Ar, Ar."

"Tim, drop the wrench and unhand the wires," Jill ordered.

"Honey, this won't be like the other times," Tim assure her, twisting the wrench.

"Tim, you will trigger an"-

Tim accidentally cut a wire jumped back just in time as a small electrical explosion took place. Mark sniggered a bit, and Randy and Brad appeared at the doorway. "Nice one, dad," Brad laughed.

"Boys, back," Jill ordered, and strode forward. "Tim, unhand the wires, or your tools are sold to the factory."

"NO!" Tim said, startled. "Take them, God, you're mean to me. Is this your idea of Christmas giv"-

"I don't want anything that involves wires!"

Mark walked back upstairs to get away from his mom and dad's rising arguing. He walked back in his room, and lay on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling. Randy was such a jerk. Why did he attack so hard like that. He wasn't really hurt, but it wasn't like him. Now his dad was acting stupid again. He had a bad feeling about the doorbell. Mark did not know why he was so pissed at his dad about the doorbell. Tim always did things like this. It was normal. As a matter of fact, Mark would be quite scared if the doorbell didn't break.

Mark couldn't wait till Christmas. He was going skiing with his friend Jimmy over the holidays. That meant one week away from Randy and Brad. Mark wished so much that he could talk to Brad about it, as a younger brother to an older brother. But Brad was not like that. If anything, he would laugh at Mark and clap Randy's hand in amusement.

Mark got up and moved over to the window. He looked down to the landing by the house. A man was staring at the house address. Mark didn't really think much of it. The man lit a cigarette, and then looked up to Mark's window, but the eleven year-old boy had already moved back to his bed.

Mark got up again, and this time seized some small wooden pieces on his study table. Thank God he didn't have homework. He could just work on a model airplane for a bit.

He put the wooden pieces on his bed, and went to get some glue. Opening the drawer, he found the bottle empty. He stamped his foot in anger, and kicked the drawer closed. Now, he had nothing to do, but to walk back to the bed again and stare up at the ceiling.

Back down, the man put the cigarette out, and looked away from the address. "This is it," he said to himself. "Now, I just have to wait. I'm almost there."


	3. Too Far

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 3: Too Far**

"Today on Tool Time, we're gonna continue with the Binford 2100 Electric Laser," Tim introduced.

"Now, if you remember last week, Tim and I showed you the new tool, and now we're going to show its uses," Al said to the crowd. "Tim here is going to show you how to use the laser to cut through a piece of wood."

"Forget the wood Al," Tim said. "What're you living in, the eighties. It's the nineties. We've evolved to metal."

"Uh, Tim, you want to keep the laser away from metal," Al said nervously. "The metal can refocus the laser and"-

Tim shot the laser at the metal. As Al had tried to warn, it refocused the laser, and shot it back, narrowly missing Tim. Al dove behind the table just in time as it smashed the window.

Tim looked at the shattered window. "Hem. Uh, I did this to teach parents at home an important lesson. This is what can happen if you let the laser get too near your kids."

Night fell, and the fight hadn't quelled by then. As a matter of fact, it got worse. Mark was on his way upstairs after dinner when Randy passed him, pushed his shoulder into Mark's, and said, "Move it, dork."

"Stop calling me dork," Mark said angrily.

"What're you gonna do about it," Randy challenged, forcing Mark around to face him.

Mark clenched his fist, and without warning punched Randy in the face. Randy yelled in pain, and Mark kicked him as he fell to the floor. Brad ran in to the room to see Mark over Randy. He gaped. Mark over Randy? He ran in, and pushed Mark to the ground himself. He kicked Mark over and over. Mark yelled, and Randy got up.

He rubbed his face, and then he noticed Brad beating Mark up very hard. "Brad. BRAD! Leave him!"

"What?" Brad asked angrily. "He beat you, and he's taking advantage of his stupid karate. Gonna teach him karate won't help him." Brad made to kick him again, but Randy kicked Brad's foot away. "What're you, some brutal Nazi?"

"What're you, a nerd?" Brad challenged back. "Did Mark's kick have you dorkified?"

"Shut up Brad, this isn't your fight?" Randy said angrily. "I'll deal with Mark on my own. Just stay out of it!"

"He started the fighting"-

"This has nothing to do with fights!" Randy yelled at him.

Mark listened to them fighting from the floor. He should've got up when he had the chance, but he stayed on the floor, listening to Randy stick up for him. Or was he? He felt himself being dragged over to the entry way. He tried yelling for help, but Randy put his foot over Mark's mouth, opened the front door, and pushed him out. Mark got up quickly, but Randy had already locked the door.

"Lemme in!"

Randy ran to the back door to lock that too. Mark knocked hard on the door. His mom and dad were asleep in their bedroom, so they wouldn't have heard the knock. He looked over at the doorbell to ring it, but he then realized that it was broken thanks to his dad and his infinite wisdom.

"Now, that was too far," Brad gaped at Randy. "You're locking him out. And you told me to stop kicking him?"

"No, I'm just keeping him out of what we're about to discuss," Randy said angrily, staring at Brad.

"Discuss what?"

"Why do you always push him around so bad?" Randy challenged.

"Oh my God, Mark really did have you dorkified."

"He did not!" Randy said angrily. "But beating him up isn't gonna do anything!"

"It did before!"

"How many times have you beaten anyone up, and got away with it?" Randy tested. "You just have a big problem."

Brad sighed, "Whatever. Just let the dork back in."

Randy left Brad and went back downstairs. At least Mark wouldn't do anything stupid like beat Brad up next. Knowing Mark, he might've wanted to get revenge if he saw Randy going after Brad too. Maybe the fight would dissolve by tomorrow.

Mark waited outside for someone to hear him and let him back in. But five minutes outside left him really cold, so he moved over to the soil to pick a rock. Wilson had an extra set of keys. If he could throw a rock at Wilson's window, and wake him up, Wilson could let him back in, and Randy would be in a very embarrassing situation.

He bent down to pick one up, and felt himself being grabbed by a pair of hands. One hand was placed over his mouth, and the other took him by the neck, threatening to choke him, "Not a word," a voice whispered.

Mark tried struggling, and he almost got free. The man grabbed him from behind, and ripped a piece of Mark's blue shirt off. He threw it to the ground, and leapt forward to catch Mark again before he could yell.

Randy opened the door just as the man disappeared. He looked around. Mark wasn't there. "Mark!"

Mark had heard Randy's call, and so did the man who Mark, even through the dark, recognized as the man who hung around the house earlier that day. When Randy called, the man quickened his pace, and dragged Mark to the street. He threw him in the back seat, and shut the door. The man then got into the driver's seat, and drove away, Mark in the back. The worse part was, Mark couldn't yell for help for fear of the strange man beating him to a pulp.


	4. A Brother Lost

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 4: A Brother Lost**

Randy went to bed uncomfortably that night. He knew that poor Mark would spend the night outside, and that when he was let in the next morning, Randy would be in big trouble. That was too bad, because he was looking forward to having Beth over.

The next morning, he was woken up. He was shaken awake by Jill. Great, he thought to himself. She woke me up just to kill me. What a perfect way to begin the weekend. He groggily opened his eyes and stared at her tiredly.

"Wake up," Jill said loudly. "I've been trying to get you awake all morning. Come on, it's breakfast."

Randy put on his clothes, and walked downstairs slowly. He was really tired, but he could think well enough. Where was Mark? He was surprised Mark was not inside. When Randy arrived in the kitchen, he looked around. Tim and Brad were already sitting at the table. Jill turned to the table and noticed an absence, "Honey, where's Mark?"

Tim shrugged, and started on his toast. Brad attacked his, and Randy had a feeling of foreboding. "Mom, I'll have a late breakfast, I just remembered I have… err… homework to do."

Before Tim or Jill could protest, he hurriedly left the room. He retreated back to the basement, and sat on his bed. Mark wasn't inside? Of course, Mark was just trying to scare him. Randy snuck upstairs, and to the back door. He looked around quickly. He then hurried around the house to where he left Mark. There was no one.

Randy looked around wildly, begging himself, praying, 'please, let me be fooling me.'

Looking on the ground, Randy noticed a piece of blue cloth. He picked it up, and looked closely at it. Mark was wearing blue last night. Was this his? Randy walked back in uncertainly.

By noon, Mark had still not come back, and Randy was growing worried. Brad was upstairs playing soccer on the computer, so he didn't really notice. Tim and Jill were frantically searching the house for him.

Like Randy, Jill was really worried about him. She practically ransacked the house. She was frantically searching for her youngest son, unknowing to the fact that Randy locked him out.

"Mark!" Tim called outside.

"Is that you, neighbor?"

"Wilson!"

"Hi-de-ho?"

"Have you seen Mark?" Tim asked.

"Isn't he supposed to be inside?" Wilson inquired.

"He's disappeared Wilson," Tim said hardly. "He didn't even come to breakfast."

While Tim was talking to Wilson, Jill called the police. Randy had tried getting her attention. Once Jill had finished, Randy asked her, trying to sound casual, "Where is he?"

"He's gone," Jill sobbed.

"What?"

"He disappeared," Jill said, wiping her eyes. "The police said they'll do everything, but your father needs to file a description to them."

Jill left the room, Randy standing with his mouth half open. He was gone. He wasn't there. He left outside immediately to talk to Wilson, but saw Tim talking to him.

"Alright, thanks anyway," Tim said sadly, and he left the backyard.

Wilson nodded, and left inside. Randy didn't call him back. If Wilson was going to make phone calls, it was best not to stop him. Randy left inside again.

Now, he was worried. What if something had happened to Mark and Randy never got to apologize. He tried to push that ominous thought out of his mind. It was too much. Mark was ok. Of course he was. Who'd want someone like him anyway? Just for thinking that, Randy felt disgusted with himself. Who'd want him? After what Randy did to him, no one would want _him _instead.

All Randy could do now was sit thoughtfully. Mark had obviously disappeared. But where did he go? He sighed to himself. As the day went by, he started sneaking in his parents' bedroom while they were out to the station. He'd steal a look at one of Mark's pictures, and bite his lip nervously. "I do hope nothing happened to him," he said quietly to himself.

So far, Randy's hopes were keeping up. Apart from being kidnapped, nothing had happened to Mark. The car he was trapped in parked outside a small shack by the lake. Mark wouldn't dare move from the car himself. Instead, the man had got out, and he forced Mark out, "Out. NOW!"

Mark obliged immediately. The man dragged him to the shack, and kicked him inside. He forced Mark into a room, and pushed him to the floor. "I only need to know few things. Tell me everything, and I'll let you go unscathed. Otherwise, my _dear friend_ will take care of you. I will leave you here for a whole day to think things over. We will meet again tomorrow."

Mark watched as he slammed the door. He looked around. The room was very empty, except for a small toilet that looked like it hadn't been used for years, and that the plumbing probably didn't work. Apart from the toilet, there was a bookshelf, but it was completely empty, except for a few children's books. Mark didn't want to have to read kid's books, so he stayed put. Plus, he didn't think the kidnapper would've liked to catch him reading. Set beside a small window, was a wooden chair.

While looking around and taking in everything, Mark also had to endure the acrid smell of tobacco smoke. The only thing he could do now was stay put until the man finally decided Mark was useless, and either keep the promise and let him go, or kill him.


	5. No Support

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 5: No Support**

_A/N: Warning: OOC_

Later that day, Randy had decided that Wilson would obviously be done with any phone calls Randy assumed he was making. He walked back downstairs and ran out the backdoor.

As usual, Wilson was outside working with whatever weird thing he always had. Randy ignored the termites he was roasting, and immediately opened conversation, "That you Wilson?"

"Hi-de-ho," Wilson replied slowly. He seemed depressed. "I'm sure Mark will be fine, Randy."

Randy looked down. If there was anyone Randy could tell his feelings to and say it was actually his fault, it was Wilson. He opened his mouth, but closed it at a loss for words. Instead, he turned his attention to what Wilson was doing. Beside the roasting termites, Wilson was reading a reference book.

"What're you doing?" Randy asked.

"I'm checking up my Chinese Zodiac, young Taylor," Wilson said casually. "According to this reference book, I am a Horse; hard-worker and independent. What year were you born, Randy?"

"Err… Wilson I… whatever, I was born in 1982."

Wilson scanned through the contents and reference for 1982, and in few seconds, he found it. "1982, 1982… Ah, there it is," Wilson said interestedly. "1982: You are a dog. Never lets people down. Honest but worrisome. There you have it Taylor. Congratulations. You are a dog."

"Hmm, Mark was born in 1985, wasn't he?" Wilson recalled. "Let's see his sign. An Ox: Confident, leader, and methodical. Good with hands. See, nothing to worry about. Mark got out of tight spots before. He might just escape from thus, but we need to stay confident, like he was."

Randy gaped behind the fence so Wilson didn't see. He could read signs all he wanted, but to remind he, Randy, of Mark, was disturbing. Randy looked down quietly. Truth was, he didn't believe in that Chinese Astrology stuff, especially then after what he did to Mark. It's not like, oh, if someone was born in the same animal as Hitler, he'd start World War III or anything. He was surprised Wilson would have this much fun when he knew full well what happened. "How can you be so cheerful?"

"Well, I find reading to be quite an escape from reality, wouldn't you agree?" Wilson said, if anything, testily.

"Yeah, well, after what I did, I doubt I am honest, and loving," Randy said lowly.

"Randy, if you have something to say, I'm all ears," Wilson said calmly.

"Would you be all ears if I told you it was my fault?" Randy asked sadly.

Wilson looked up over the fence. He looked questioningly at Randy. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"It is," Randy admitted. "Wilson, we were in a fight. So Brad beat him up. I stopped Brad, thinking he was going too far. Then I- I locked Mark out so he'd stay away from Brad while I dealt with him. When I went to let him back in, he- he disappeared."

Wilson eyed Randy. Randy couldn't tell what Wilson was thinking, because his face was as usual obscured by the fence. "So, you locked your little brother out?"

Randy nodded slowly. He had hoped Wilson would take it well, and tell Randy what to do next. But what would Wilson be able to say to ease this pain? Before Randy could say anything else, Wilson said, "Do you have any idea what pain you put your mother and father in?"

"I"-

"Why did you lock him out?" Wilson demanded.

"I"-

"I mean, what you think you were cool locking him out?" Wilson said angrily. "We all know you're older than him Taylor. It's no secret! Not only that, but you deliberately locked the poor boy out. He's only eleven!"

"Wilson, I"-

Wilson was at a loss for words. "You put everyone in so much pain and you- you- locked him out- you hurt him just to exercise your control over him and- what're you some Nazi Fascist?"

Randy ran away. He couldn't hear anymore. He disappeared indoors just as Wilson came to his senses. He called Randy back, but Randy kept running until he was inside.

Wilson sat down regretfully. He lost it with Randy. Well, he locked Mark out and caused a lot of pain. Wilson knew from Tim and Jill that Randy and Brad often ganged up on Mark. Arguing with himself was useless though. Randy specifically said he meant to throw Brad off Mark and end the bullying. Randy meant well, but couldn't he have just told Mark to stay out of it?

Randy threw himself on his bed, and burst into tears. Mark was gone. Randy thought he could talk to Wilson about it, but he couldn't. Wilson surprised Randy by acting that way, but he probably lost his mind when he found out that of all the things Randy ever did, this was the lowest. He locked Mark out, knowing he shouldn't have, and look at what happened.

It was at that time when a new solution entered Randy's mind. He had little other choice. After the kidnap, everything seemed so unimportant. Nothing seemed as important as finding if Mark was ok or not. Randy was losing his faith in the police department. If the PD couldn't do anything, who could? Randy had no choice. He resolved to himself that afternoon to end this trouble, and there only one way to do it.


	6. The Beating

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 6: The Beating **

Mark must've been having the most terrible time of his life. Mark was miserable. He was there for just a few hours, and now lived in the room. It was hard to believe that one day ago, he was fighting with Randy. Now, Mark had to sleep in a cold room. He was likely to have a cold or pneumonia if he stayed. But what did the man want with him?

The man called himself James Habbleman and he had no desire to treat Mark right or make him feel at home. He wanted something more. Something Mark knew almost nothing about.

Habbleman threw open the door, walked in few steps, and slammed it shut. He spun round and seized a chair. He sat, and faced Mark who was sitting on the floor. Habbleman didn't immediately speak. He lit up a cigarette, and blew a cloud of smelly smoke in Mark's young face. Mark coughed, and plugged his nose from the smoke taking over the already stale and acrid smell of smoke in the room. Perfect, he thought. Just the thing he needed in this room if he was going to live here. There was a new smell to take over the bad.

"Look boy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Habbleman said to him menacingly. "Answer me all the questions I give you, and you can run scout free unharmed. Fail to answer them, and- well- we'll get to that later."

Mark didn't speak. He eyed Habbleman angrily. Mark no longer asked himself what Habbleman wanted. As Wilson predicted, he now asked himself how he would possibly get out of this situation. This man was not at all like Brad and Randy, but he hoped both of them regretted what they always did. Asa matter of fact, Mark started wishing he was facing both of them then facing this man.

"Do you wish to answer me questions?" Habbleman demanded.

"Depends," Mark sniffed. The smell of smoke remained in his nose, as bad smells sometimes do when they are strong.

"What's your name?" Habbleman asked.

"Mark Taylor."

"Age?"

"Eleven."

"Father's name, Tim 'The Tool Man' Taylor, correct?" Habbleman in inquired firmly. Mark nodded questioningly. What was he getting at? "Very well, one more question. Think how close you are, boy. You are almost free. Tell me about the 2100 Electric Laser."

"Dad promoted it as a Binford Tool on Tool Time," Mark answered.

"Oh, really?" Habbleman said in a sarcastic surprise. "What can it be used for, boy?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Mark asked. "You saw the show. I'm only eleven."

"What did he say about it on the show?" Habbleman demanded.

"I don't watch it," Mark lied quickly. If Habbleman believed him, maybe he could get out early.

"You expect me to believe that the son of the Tool Man doesn't watch the show?" Habbleman laughed. He blew a stream of smoke into Mark's face again. Mark blocked his nose in time, and covered his eyes.

"I don't watch it!"

"You wish to meet my friend?" Habbleman threatened.

"You have no friends!"

"HAH!" He got up alarmingly fast, and strode out of the room. He shut the door behind him and locked it. Mark waited for half an hour before he saw the man again, this time holding a leather strap. "It's my best friend. Mr. Leather Strap. What do you think of him?"

Mark eyed it. "I don't know anything about it, I swe- AH!"

He slapped it on Mark mercilessly, "That's for keeping it to yourself!"

"I don't KNOW!"

He whipped him again. "Do you expect me to believe your father doesn't tell you anything about his tools? Or that you don't even watch his show? If I call your father, and he says he doesn't know a thing about it, you'll be spared. I'll take it I have the wrong kid. Otherwise, you'll be in for the worse time of your life, possibly cut short!"

He whipped Mark again. "Your phone number, NOW!" He whipped him again. Habbleman seemed to be unleashing everything on Mark, but boy was the assumption soon destroyed. "Tell me NOW… or else!" He reached in his pocket and pulled what became Mark's greatest fear that week. In his hand was a small handgun. "I just want your number, boy. Not the area code. I just want your family number."

Mark thought for a bit. If he gave the number, he might use it to get more information. In the worse case scenario, he would go over and kill them himself if they didn't tell him anything. "I'll never tell"-

All of a sudden, Mark's words were cut short as he yelled. He cried hard. He cried like he never cried before, and before it was too late, he soon wished for something he never thought he'd wish for. He wished Brad and Randy was still beating him up, because a loud bang went off as Habbleman pulled the trigger mercilessly.

BANG!


	7. The Sunday Lie

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 7: The Sunday Lie**

Mark cried. The bullet narrowly missed. He shot. He actually shot. Mark's eyes widened with fear as he looked to his left. There was a small crater in the wooden floor. He stuttered while answering, "871 2471."

"Are you sure?" Habbleman demanded. "If I find out that this is the wrong one, I will kill you for real." He left the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving a terrified little boy behind him.

Mark had wondered if this was over. Probably he was going to call for a ransom, and Tim and Jill would come and rescue him. Oh, if only things were that easy for Mark.

Even by the next morning, Habbleman hadn't called Tim or Jill yet. As it was Sunday, it only figured that Habbleman wouldn't call. Not when the Taylor's had to go to church. But that was what Mark thought. He knew that his parents would be going to church, but Habbleman didn't care. He left the house for a phone booth, and dialed.

Mark waited in the room for the small loaf of bread he was to have for breakfast. Sadly, we went hungry for most of the morning until Habbleman came back with the bread, and his whip. "Ok, I called your parents," he said calmly.

"They're at church," Mark answered, nibbling on the loaf Habbleman gave him.

Habbleman eyed Mark, and decided to ignore the last comment. "They didn't answer the phone. Makes me think they're avoiding me. Do you have any idea why?"

"They're at church!"

"Who'd go to church when they're boy is missing?" Habbleman tested. "What fits is that I remember seeing you the day before yesterday. You were up in your room. You were spying on me."

Mark's eyes widened with fear again. "No. I swear I- I wasn't spying. I was just looking out the window, casual like- like"-

"And you told me OUT!"

"I didn't, I swe"- Mark felt the leather strap slap his back. Habbleman lunged forward, and took the bread away. He slapped Mark on the face very hard, inflicting more pain on Mark. Mark fell back in pain, and Habbleman left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Mark was right but so was Habbleman. The house was in depression. Even Brad was a bit down and worried, but he didn't know as much as Randy knew. Not even Tim and Jill knew, and Randy thought Wilson will have told them. Tim wasn't really in the mood to go anywhere. Jill had to talk him into it.

"What kind of father leaves anywhere with his boy missing?" Tim asked her.

"Someone who'd pray for his safe return," Jill suggested. "Tim, we can't go alone."

"Take Brad with"-

"Dad," Randy interrupted. He just came in to the dining room holding his forehead. "Just go. I wanna spend time at home alone." Jill opened her mouth to argue, and then Randy added, "I'm not feeling well. Just go and leave me alone."

Randy was unopposed. He was thankful for that as he was now home alone. When he was younger, he and Brad used to get up to all kinds of mischief when their parents were out. They would go from stealing snacks and cookies to even trying a cigar. Now, all Randy cared about was making it up to Mark for what he did.

Brad was very worried. As the older brother, he had decided not to show any sorrow or remorse, but now he felt really guilty that the very last thing he had done with his youngest brother was beat him up, and argued with Randy about what much of a dork Mark was.

Both felt very down and guilty, but only Randy felt more guilty and down and sorrowful than anybody else in the house, or neighborhood for that matter if Wilson was to be counted. Randy had locked Mark out. Not only did he do what Brad had done, the blame for the kidnap rested with Randy, and him alone.

Randy already made up his mind. He spent a few hours thinking about it, and could think of nothing else. As a kid, he didn't think that the police would do anything, so he decided to do it himself. He retreated down to his room, and seized a bag. He put his water bottle in it first. After, he opened his wardrobe, and put a few clothes in it, and a snow hat. He took the open bag upstairs to the kitchen, and took food from the fridge. It was about the only kind of misdeed he was willing to do in this situation. He was stealing food. He actually felt good stealing the food, and actually doing it for a good cause. Plus, was he stealing? It was his home after all. He then went upstairs to his parent's room, and took the camping tent from the upper closet. He folded it up and stuffed it in too.

Randy didn't leave yet though. He sat at the kitchen table to have one last meal at home before setting out. He got out his favorite lunch food, and it tasted better since he was making it himself. He got out the celery and cheese, and ser them down. That was when he remembered. He ran upstairs hoping he parents didn't remove it.

He brightened up when he saw it. It was Mark's picture by their bedside table. He seized it, and put that in the bag too. He went back downstairs to have the meal he wanted. For fifteen minutes, he sat there, eating quietly and alone. When he was finished, he reached into his bag, and put his snow cap on.

Randy opened the front door. He knew it wasn't good to leave it unlocked, because someone else might decide to do a robbery. But if he locked it from the outside, Tim and Jill wouldn't be able to get in. If he locked it, and left the keys where they'd find it, anyone could come in. So, without looking back, without regrets, without thinking about it just a bit longer, Randy had left the house to find his brother, careless of the dangerous and threatening cold he was walking into.


	8. The Ransom Demands

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 8: The Ransom Demands**

It was later Sunday when Habbleman called the Taylor's for real. Well aware of the ability of officers to track calls, he dialed using a cell phone well away from his shack. He dialed the number. Mark had answered his questions and he was ready to give him up. The phone rang late that evening, and Tim picked up the phone. Usually, the phone told them what the number calling was. This time the caller ID on it showed the ID was withheld.

"Hello?" he called confusedly.

"Taylor, you want your boy?" a voice asked on the phone. It sounded a bit low and slow.

"Who're you?"

"The only one who knows where he is," Habbleman answered laughingly and mockingly. "You want him?"

"Yes," Tim said casually, trying to act normal.

"Don't try fooling me with your normality," Habbleman said to him over the phone. "I know you're worried. Are you ready to make some sacrifices? Real sacrifices to get your son back?"

"Give me back my boy," Tim demanded.

"No problem," Habbleman laughed. "Only he has certain pain issues to take care of, and he might not see you for a bit."

"What are you doing to him? Answer me!" Tim demanded.

"He's fine," Habbleman said, sniggering still. "He ran into some- difficulties with my 'dear friend,' but other than that- I mean- oh at least he's alive. The question is not how he's doing. The question is: Do you want him?"

"Of course I want him," Tim said angrily. "Give him back now."

Jill walked in questioningly, and Tim mouthed over the phone at her, 'it's his kidnapper.' As Jill clapped her hands to her mouth, Habbleman spoke again, "What do you love more, your tools, or your boy? Answer me!"

Tim considered for a bit, and then said, "My boy."

Jill, who had heard Habbleman's question, shook her head impatiently at Tim. Tim ignored her, and out focus into the conversation at hand. Habbleman was speaking again, "I'm ready to give him back. He's answered my questions."

"What did you do with him?!"

"Nothing! He answered them with his own free will," Habbleman yelled back. "Well, almost. I had to- 'force' – some things out of him." He sniggered heartily, enjoying Tim's angry retorts.

"Do you know who you're talking too?" Tim asked testily on the phone.

Habbleman laughed, "A Tool Man with a low-rated Cable Tool Show? Shut up. If you want your boy back, you'll be wise to shut your mouth unless spoken to." Tim shut up at that last comment. "If you want your son back, all you have to do is give up one thing. I want your Laser and my ransom demands of 10,000."

"Hey!" Tim said seriously. "You will never get my tools. You will get none of them."

"Fine, then say goodbye to your boy. Only I have a gun with me. He got a taste of pain before. Don't make me make it worse! I am giving you till Tuesday, and I'll call back. You will meet my demands and give in, otherwise; the next time you see your precious young boy will be when he's lying face down in a pool of blood!"

"What do you want my tool for?"

"Peh. To sell them to the army, genius! For a Tool man, you sure are- wait- I forgot who I was talking too!" He started laughing more. Habbleman was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Tim opened his mouth to retort, but Habbleman hung up. Tim hung up too, and looked at Jill. "He has Mark."

"No duh he has Mark!" Jill said impatiently. She was a little fidgety. "Where is he?"

"He didn't say," Tim said back. "Most kidnappers don't give their position away honey!"

Jill shook her head, "And what's this about your tools?"

"He's a selfish guy who wants my tools," Tim said, sitting down and covering his face with his hands. "Now what to do we do? He demands 10,000 and my laser tool."

"What does he want with your tools?" Jill asked.

"I dunno, because he wants a good tool?" Tim suggested.

"Then why didn't he call Bob Vila?" Jill asked questioningly.

Tim shook his head, "I have no idea what he wants with me. But now you got me even more down making me wish he _did _get Bob Vila. At least he'd be out of my way." Jill shook her head and Tim went on, "He wants to sell the laser to the army."

"We can't do that! It's dangerous," Jill protested.

"No, is it?" Tim said sarcastically. He got up, and left.

What with the phone call, and the arguing coupled with sarcasm and jokes, Tim and Jill failed to even notice their middle son, Randall William Taylor, was missing as well.


	9. A Taylor Boy Gone

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 9: A Taylor Boy... Gone**

What Randy forgot was to leave a note for his mom and dad. So, after the sarcasm and jokes that Tim and Jill directed at each other, Jill went down to talk to Randy, and see how he was feeling. She still believed that he wasn't feeling well. However, as she thought, Randy wasn't there. Perhaps he just left for a bit, and wasn't really sick but wanted to stay alone. She could understand that. What she couldn't understand was why Randy wasn't anywhere in the house. Randy was better than that. He wouldn't leave the house and worry her more, would he?

She next looked up in Mark's room, thinking maybe he resided there to seize a memory of his younger brother. However, the room was empty and for once, clean and spotless. She looked around anxiously for Randy, but he couldn't be seen anywhere. As she ran downstairs worriedly, the doorbell rang and Tim appeared on the landing.

As it rang, Tim shook his head, and looked up at Jill, "You know I can't forgive you for getting Bob Vila to fix the doorbell."

"Don't worry Tim, Al swore not to mention it on Tool Time," Jill assured him, opening the door to talk to Bob.

"Oh, so Al knows now?"

"Hi-de-ho neighbors," Wilson said from the doorway. He edged past Bob, who was having a few last words with Jill, and came in. He sat beside Tim on the sofa, "I am so sorry about what happened to your son. I hope he is found soon."

"Do you know something we don't?"

"I'm sorry, my yoga teacher hasn't seen him," Wilson said sadly.

"Have you seen Randy?" Jill asked him.

Wilson looked up, alarmed, "Randy's gone too?"

"Yes, he disappeared," Jill said frantically. Tim looked at her in interest.

"Did you look in"-

"I looked everywhere," Jill said madly. "He's gone."

"Oh dear, this may be my fault," Wilson said guiltily.

"No he's no- what do you mean _your fault?"_

"Well, I scolded him," Wilson said sadly. "See neighbors, Randy explained to me it was his fault Mark was missing. He locked him out to get him away from Brad while Randy himself dealt with him. He thought he meant well, but while Mark was out, he was taken away, and Randy couldn't find him. Neighbors, I looked at your boys as my own sometimes, and I couldn't stand the fact that Mark's fate was because of Randy's actions, and I scolded him."

"You meant well," Jill said quietly, but still feeling annoyed at Wilson for yelling at Randy nonetheless. She sat thinking for a bit, and finally something hit her. Randy felt it was his fault. He left the house. If she went upstairs, would the tent be there?

Sure enough, when Jill ran up to her room and looked into the closet, she saw the tent was missing. She rushed back downstairs, and opened the fridge. The food was gone. Randy had left his room, and a lot of food from the fridge was also gone. Now, it was just Tim, Jill, and Brad left.

She ran back to the living room, and spilled everything out, "Tim, our tent is gone. So is our food. Randy is gone too."

Wilson looked up, but Tim got the wrong idea, "So he thinks he can take advantage of our pain, and steal our things?"

"Tim, he's gone!" Jill said madly again. "He left to look for him. Isn't it obvious?"

"I think Jill's theory is more accurate," Wilson put in.

What was really up with Randy was just a small boy walking, head bowed against the wind, to nowhere. He had no idea where he was going or how to get there. All he knew was that he had to keep looking. His first stop was going to be the police station.

Randy didn't sleep yet though. He hadn't slept a wink for ages. He needed to get the police station first before anything. But could he make it without falling asleep? He had to watch himself, because he did not want to fall asleep without setting up the tent first, and sleeping by the fire.

As he thought this, he noticed suddenly how tired he was. He was very tired. He felt if he didn't stop and rest soon, he would collapse. He sighed greatly. He could see a tree a short way off. The tree was covered with snow, like snow cakes out of a dream, but he hardly cared. He waded through the snow to the tree, and stopped to take a rest.

And there he stayed for a long time before finally feeling the strength to get up again and walk through the white cold snow.


	10. The Lost Boy

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 10: The Lost Boy**

Randy woke up from his nap to find it still the afternoon. He couldn't have been sleeping for long. He got up tiredly, took his bag, and walked on. He rubbed his eyes while walking. He felt he never went so long without speaking. He kept his mouth shut, and his eyes tired. Many families walked past him, without looking twice at him. They didn't know what Randy's purpose was. They might never know.

The police station eventually came in sight, and Randy stopped. He felt nervous, but he had to keep going. He bent down again and opened his bag. He pulled out a bacon sandwich and Mark's picture. He sat, staring at it for a bit. As Mark's face looked up at Randy's, Randy burst into tears.

"Oh God," Randy prayed. "Please let him be ok." Over the next few hours, the seriousness of the situation appeared worse to Randy. Mark was kidnapped for God's sake. What did kidnappers do? They demand. They demand money and if the money isn't given, they kill their victims. Kill. If anything, the next time Randy could ever see Mark would be the funeral.

Randy must've been crying for half an hour. Sobbing very hard, tears were running like a stream down his face. After a while, and with much effort, he finally managed to stop. He wiped his eyes. It was all his fault. The mindless man should've taken him, Randy, not Mark. He got up and walked on his way again, continuing biting his sandwich. He had to keep going. If he wanted to get any closer, he couldn't stop.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of walking, he made it to the station. He ran up to it, and knocked. He brightened his face up to look a bit more normal, and the door opened. Standing at the door was a tall black officer with a skinny black moustache and short black hair. "Anything you need?" he asked with a soft voice. He spoke in a kind way.

"I need to speak to the captain," Randy urged. "Please let me talk to someone."

The man eyed the picture, and looked back at Randy's face to see recent signs of tears despite the fact Randy had tried to brighten himself up. "Come in."

Randy followed the man in. The station entrance was a large room with stairs leading up. On each side of the blue wall were corridors to different parts. The man took him upstairs and to the left to a large door. The man knocked on the door, "Captain Stevens!"

"Come in."

The man entered, and Randy followed. "A boy is here to talk to you."

Stevens was a little chubby without being called fat. He had a bigger white face than the officer, and no facial hair. Stevens was sitting behind a desk. Behind him was a large map portrait of what looked like Michigan. Randy didn't notice the black man take his leave and Randy being asked to sit down.

"You wanna sit?" Stevens asked more loudly.

Randy snapped out of his trance, and looked over. "Sorry," he said quietly. He took a seat in front of the Captain.

"What do you need?" he asked with the same tone the officer asked earlier.

Randy handed over to Stevens Mark's picture. "My brother."

Stevens took one look, and immediately said, "We're on the case. What're you doing way out here son?"

"Looking," Randy said quietly.

"You should be home," Stevens protested.

Randy knew he'd face these protests, but he didn't care. "Until Mark is found, I have no home."

"You have to trust the police station to deal with these issues," Stevens said firmly. "Now, if I can arrange for a car to drive you home, it would do you good."

"No," Randy said, looking up. "I won't go home. Not until I know Mark will be found."

"No promises can be made," Stevens said. "The station is doing everything it can, but it doesn't always work."

Very encouraging, Randy though. "Then I'm staying outside till he's found," he said angrily. "There's no way I'm going back home. Not home. Not school. Nowhere till I find him. Besides, how many times have you actually found kidnapped victims?"

Stevens didn't answer, and Randy felt triumphant. He reached over, took Mark's picture from the Captain, and got up. "Sorry I bothered you," he said, and left the room over the Captain's yells to come back.

Randy walked quickly through the hall, and back downstairs to the front door. He opened it, and left without looking back. There was no way he'd look back. No way at all. If the police weren't going to help, and Randy wasn't surprised they didn't, he would continue to look for Mark himself, even if it meant defying the police.

Randy knew the police were probably going to follow him, so he ran. He got lucky that day when he spotted a large truck unloading. His face lit up, and ran up to the truck. The back was closed. Randy neither knew nor cared what was being unloaded. All he cared about was sneaking on the back, so he hid on the left side out of sight of the men unloading it.

He retreated a bit further from a man when another appeared, and he heard the back open with a low grumbling sound. He prayed he'd make it in and probably sneak behind one of the piles of boxes. The man turned his back and disappeared behind a peach tree. Randy caught his chance, and ran. He jumped on quietly, and hid behind one of the boxes.

Only few more boxes were being placed, because the truck closed five minutes later. Randy cautiously came out from behind his pile, and sat. He could feel the truck moving underneath him very slowly. It must've been breakable stuff in the boxes. Randy guessed glasses, and his guess was possibly confirmed by the low clinging from inside the boxes at every turn.

Randy knew he'd be in there for a while, so he got a sandwich out and started eating. Randy was afraid to go to sleep, in case he was woken by a probably angry man if he was found. Still, despite everything, he fell asleep.

He was wakened by the truck coming to a bumpy halt. He jerked awake for a start, and looked wildly around? How long had he been asleep? Where was he now? Randy didn't hide this time, because he knew he'd be caught, and wasn't up for another moment of stress and hope. He just let himself stay in the open.

The truck opened and Randy caught sight of the man's surprised face. The man looked foreign. He was brownish with short black hair and a large black moustache. Over his black hair was a black hat bearing the name Baboo. He looked alarming and Randy guessed he was foreign, Indian most likely. Randy cleared his throat nervously, and said, "Sorry. Just needed a ride."

"You could ask," the man said in a rough Indian accent.

"No, I can't," Randy said, shaking his head, and jumping out. He apologized again, and ran away ignoring the man's calls. That was when Randy realized that even though it was smart not asking, if he'd taken the chance, he might've gotten somewhere, because the man seemed nice.

Randy knew not where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that he'd look anywhere. He followed his instincts, and what his gut told him to do. Only one question: Was his gut right?

_A/N: It seems unlikely doesn't it?_


	11. A Shivering Day

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 11: A Shivering Day**

Randy set up the tent when he was a good way away from the man. He was just off the road a little inside a thicket. It was about eight according to his watch, and Randy needed to get some sleep if he planned to get an early start the next day. Beside the tent he made a small fire with wooden branches he snapped off the dead trees of the winter. Before going to bed, he sat by the fire, hugging himself. When his watch read nine he crawled inside the tent, and expired for the night.

Randy did not sleep well at all. He wished the fire could be inside the tent, keeping him warm. But if he put the tent over the fire, the tent would catch fire. Randy had to move it far from the fire if he was to keep the tent safe. That night, Randy was a fourteen year-old boy curled up like a ball as the only means to keep warm for all the good it did.

Randy actually finding Mark was in his dreams that night. He dreamt he found his brother on the road, having escaped. Randy kept trying to apologize to him, but Mark didn't move. As a matter of fact, Mark kept still with a faceless expression, and Randy spent the dream trying to get his brother to hear and listen to him but to no avail. Mark sat still, as if stone.

Matters only got worse for Randy the next day. Being Monday, Randy was aware he was supposed to be in school. However, he hardly cared. Usually, he put school above most things, especially his brother. This time, he had to make an exception. He would skip a year of school until his brother was found, especially if the police were doing nothing about it.

Of course, Randy had no idea where the hell he was. All he knew was that he was somewhere far west of Detroit, and judging by the map he saw in the station, he was probably somewhere near Lansing. He continued walking. It's been a whole day and he was already near Lansing. That was probably because he snuck on board on the back of a truck when it was parked.

Randy had not left immediately though. He put his tent away, and opened his bag for a sandwich. It was cold food, but it was the best he had. He sat alone, eating for a bit. He stared at the burnt twigs from the previous night. As he moved his gaze to the dead trees around him, he started thinking to himself about the man he met the day before.

What would have happened if he had asked for a ride? The obvious answer was that Randy would've had a window to see if he happened to be passing any place suspicious or anywhere that might've helped. The best case scenario was that the man could've helped him. _Well, _he though. _He's gone now, and it's too late. _Randy didn't know how the man was like before he met him personally. Randy remained convinced what he did was smart, though did not produce the best results.

Randy tiredly walked on, hardly aware of anything in his path. The road around him was very cleanly paved, and the trees had no leaves at all. It was full of snow. Randy did not notice himself walking well off the road and into the fields to the middle of nowhere. All he knew was that he had to keep walking.

Slowly, Randy started daydreaming. First, his head was filled with horrible visions of Mark being beaten up worse than Randy and Brad could ever do combined. It was then filled with a possibility that Mark had escaped, but lost his way and was washed away by a river. Randy wiped his eyes more, hard tears threatening to come out.

Suddenly, Randy felt his stomach was about to rip from his body and free fall by itself. Leaving no time for confusion and almost no room in his mind, Randy terrifyingly yelled mostly out of instinct. He must've walked off a cliff while day dreaming. Randy felt himself hitting hard rock, rolling painfully, and falling further down. Randy was falling for what seemed like half an hour but was really only a minute. Occasionally, he hit hard rock, and fell further and further down. Eventually, he painfully hit hard but breakable ice and broke through into a crystal, icy pond.

He cried as he hit the ice, thinking his life ended there. He looked desperately around, but his arm was hurting him very badly, and his left leg was killing him. He tried moving, but he was under water, and with his aching arm and leg, he could not move. With one leg, he managed to temporarily get above water. He looked desperately around. He saw a tall man walking around the water, but Randy didn't know if he was spotted, and he fell back under.

It was no use. He gave up. He had to give up now. Randy was happy that he looked for Mark till the very end, but it might not have been enough. He left to look for Mark, and because of his foolish act, he was going to die. Well, there was one bright side; if he had failed, and the kidnapped had killed Mark, he'd see Mark again. The water pulled him under, and he knew nothing but liquid. He lost consciousness, but to him, it was death.


	12. The Search Party

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 12: The Search Party**

While Randy was dying in an icy cold pond, Tim and Jill completely neglected sleep and food. Who wouldn't, after what happened. When Tim announced that he was going to work, Jill had angrily challenged him. Tim defended his position though, and said he didn't want the whole of Detroit knowing what happened. Jill then went further, and pointed out that everyone knew, but Tim didn't answer. As a matter of fact, after Jill pointed tat out, he left.

Brad went to school as usual, but even he was a bit dispirited and down. He too thought of the last words and actions he did to Mark. However, unlike Randy, Brad didn't think of doing something. He just stayed put, and kept a little faith and hope. Something inside was urging him to get up and do something, but what could he do? He could go out and look for Randy and Mark himself, but the only family tent was gone. Randy took it.

Randy wasn't the only one who knew that the police weren't doing what they promised. Tim had called the station to find news on his lost kid, and all they told him was, "We're doing what we can."

What got them angrier was that when they had let them know Randy was missing, they said, "Yes sir, he came by, but he escaped before we could catch him?"

That last line enraged Tim and Jill, and they spent half an hour longer yelling at the Captain before he hung up at a loss for words.

"_We're doing what we can?" _Jill repeated incredulously. "What're they playing at? They tell us he'll be found within days, and it's about to make a week!"

"What can they do?" Tim asked, as if losing faith.

"Something," Jill said tearfully. "Our son is lost. He's kidnapped. The kidnapper threatens to kill him, and the police just sit back like it's a day off! We have to do something." Jill was right. That was when something struck Tim like a bolt of lightning. He looked up, but Jill didn't notice. She kept saying, "We need to do something. I swear if something happens to him, I'm filing a lawsuit against the PD."

Tim didn't answer. Jill, deciding Tim was hopeless, left the room. Tim was not hopeless though. There was only one thing left he could do. He seriously should've thought of this before. He jumped up from the chair, and called, "Wait." Jill looked over at him questioningly. Tim put his and up to silence her, and said, "I have an idea. It's the only thing left we can do. Call Nancy."

"What is it?"

"Never mind, just call Nancy," Tim ordered walking on his way upstairs. "Tell her and Marty to come on over now."

Jill obliged. She had a vague idea what Tim wanted, and though she thought it hopeless, decided to follow suit. She gave Nancy a call and told her to get over to their house. After Jill was done, Tim came back down and used the phone himself. He too had loads of phone calls to make. First, he called Al and told him to call Ilene over. He then called Heidi and told her to call Bud Harper.

At half past seven, the doorbell rang announcing the first arrival. "Hi-de-ho, neighbors," Wilson said at the doorway, face hidden by a box of sweets, "I brought some goodies to lighten the dispirited." He walked in.

Not long after, Marty and Nancy arrived, and mere minutes afterwards Heidi, Bud, Al and Ilene were sitting with the Taylors in the living room. Within half an hour, everyone was over and seated in the living room.

Tim wasted no time in getting to the point. "I called you all over because I've had an idea. Jill here gave it to me. We're going to look for Mark and Randy ourselves," Tim announced.

"Great idea!" Al exclaimed madly.

"Shut up Al," Tim whispered. "Wake the dead why don'tcha."

"Where will we look?" Heidi asked.

"Don't matter," Bud said in his accent. "We need to look all over this place. If what Tim says is true, Binford Tools is partly to blame, and our record could crumble. This kind of thing can affect our jobs, or reputation. I am with Tim."

"Think of this as a Tool Tie project," Tim said to her.

"But, it isn't," Heidi said.

Tim ignored her last comment, and turned to Marty, "Whoever finds either of them, they will need to call Marty. He will call Nancy. Nancy will call Jill. Jill will call me. I will call Wilson. He'll call Al. All will call Heidi. Heidi should call Bud, and Bud calls me. If someone within this calling chain finds Mark, he or she will call the next, understand?"

They all nodded, and Jill inquired, "What's the chain for?"

"To let everyone know first hand," Tim answered. "Leave the police calling to me."

They nodded again, and Al said, "Tim, where are you getting these ideas from. It's like you evolved."

"Shut up AL!" Tim said angrily. "Get this, all of you. The minute this is over, I'm devolving back to ape!"

No one wanted to comment to that, and decided it best to leave Tim alone during his evolution process. They all bade their goodbyes and wished each other luck. It wasn't only the police now. It was everyone after Mark and Randy. Mark was kidnapped. Randy was lost. This prompted everyone to look for the two boys.

The adults weren't the only ones doing something. Brad was given the job of searching the neighborhood. He could not go far yet. Tim had called Brad's English teacher to take him in while the family and friends set out to look for the two lost kids until further notice. Brad, still dispirited, went in with his teacher very reluctantly, and stayed. All he could possibly do was just to hope for the best.

_A/N: This chapter was to set everything up for the future finale and the future ending. Of course, now you may ask: 'Why now?' __My answer is simple: 'I wanna keep the suspense up.' :) heh... sorry_


	13. Two Kinds of Luck

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 13: Two Kinds of Luck**

_A/N: There are two kinds of luck. There's the good kind and the bad kind. I'm gonna show you the bad kind, and probably a bit of the good. You've been waiting for this chapter, so I urge you all to prepare yourselves for the fate of he who is possibly your favorite character._

Blueness became blackness. Blackness became darkness. Darkness inspired fear. Fear turned to nothingness as the water pulled Randy under, never to be seen again. The man beside the lake just noticed as the boy fell, but the man felt it too late.

Even if it was too late, who would leave a body of a boy in ice cold water? The public had to know of the death, so the family will at least know the fate of their lost son. He walked carefully on the ice to the cracks, and reached under. Luckily, his hands clasped around something, and he pulled. He dragged the lifeless boy to the shore, and felt him.

Habbleman whipped Mark, who knew not the fate of his older brother. Mark knew not the attempt the rest of his family and friends were making for him. "You know what I want! Why is your family ignoring the phone?"

"I don't KNOW!" Mark yelled bitterly.

Habbleman whipped him again. Mark yelled in pain. Habbleman whipped him again, and yelled, "LIAR!"

"I don't know!"

"LIAR!"

Mark yelled again as the whip hit him harder.

"Hello is this Jill Taylor?" a brisk voice said from a man who was standing at the doorway.

Jill was luckily at home gathering more pictures when the doorbell rang. She answered hopefully. This time, her hopes were shot down so bad; she had a hard time recovering. "Have you found him?"

"You say your boy had a blue bag with him?" the man said. The man was actually Captain Stevens. Jill nodded hopefully. Stevens continued, "Let me finish. This may be hard for you to understand. We found his bag. It was left right before a cliff off Lansing."

"What?"

"We sent a team to the bottom to investigate. There was an icy cold pond with a deep hole in it. We can guess he fell off, but we could not recover his body. Little hope he lived ma'am. Here's his bag. I'm sorry."

Jill seized the bag, and Stevens walked in. She opened it, hoping against hope that it did not belong to her Randy. But it did. She burst into tears as Stevens made the call to Tim Taylor from the house.

From the nothingness of death came a bright light. That was it! He was dead!

But… he felt his yes open. He blinked his eyes against the light from the lamp. He groaned.

"You're alive," an old voice quivered. "I hoped so."

Randy, with great effort, managed to sit up right. He turned his eyes to the man and the room he was in. The room was filled with bookcases and desks. Many chairs were placed in it. It actually looked kind of messy. The voice belonged to a man who was sitting behind one of his desks. The man looked old. Not so old, but he had neatly cut white hair growing down into a small white moustache and beard which was over his half wrinkly face.

"You alright, son?" he asked.

Randy nodded slowly and wearily, "I think so. Where am I?"

"Grand Rapids, my boy," the man laughed. "Well, just off. Now, you just stay here till you're better. You have tons of rest and food to catch up on. You could use feeding up."

"No!" Randy said suddenly. He had just remembered the purpose he was out to begin with. He lost Mark. He had to find him. "I need to go. It's important."

"Look to your legs, my boy," the man laughed.

Randy looked down. His painful leg was now wrapped heavily in a cast. So was his arm, which was folded over his chest in a sling. "I can't wait for them to heal. I don't have time. Sir, I thank you, but I must get moving."

The man got up from the desk, and moved over. He felt the cast. "You're lucky to be alive son. Think for your life. You only have to wait few days."

"I- I can't," Randy said slowly and miserably. "I'm looking for my brother. I can't wait here."

"Brother?" the man repeated.

"He was kidnapped!" Randy said exasperated. "I can't wait here. I have to go."

The man nodded understandingly. He put his hand up. "Just stay a day. Have a rest, some food, and take a walking crutch. Then you can go. Meantime, let's watch TV."

The man turned the television on. Randy gaped as Tool Time was going. He knew his dad stopped Tool Time for a bit, so it must've been a rerun, because he saw the episode before.

The man laughed as Tim lit his sleeve on fire. "I love that, what's his name, Al. Who do you like?"

"Everybody loves Al," Randy said, mimicking his dad.

Randy hadn't stayed one day. He had to leave. He took a bite as the man suggested. As Randy thought of preparing himself, he remembered. "You didn't happen to save my bag, did you?"

"I'm sorry. I never saw one."

"Thanks sir, but I have to go," Randy said apologetically.

"Good luck," the man said kindly. "If there's anything I can do for you, come back."

Randy nodded and thanks, and set off, with a new bag the man had given him with new food and items. He walked very slowly down the road. The walk was quite uneventful. Around the evening, Randy had heard a loud bang, and a crack like a whip.

Against his conscience, he limped over to investigate. It was not a long walk, and soon, he came across a phone booth. Inside was a tall man making a call. Outside, behind the man, tied to a tree, was Mark Taylor.

_A/N: Hallelujah! Mark is found. Now all teenage Randy has to do is free him without Habbleman noticing, getting away with his bad leg, Mark, and his growing weakness, and remain on the run from Habbleman throughout the rest of the journey. Wait, Randy's lived! Alright! Now he just has to live through the rest of the story! That doesn't sound so hard._

_Peh, good luck to them. Only I know what's gonna happen. But after Habbleman's stupidity of leaving Mark tied to a tree outside, they might have hope. _

_The next few chapters will be written from a POV of a character, and have few shifts._


	14. POV I Freedom

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 14: POV I: Freedom**

_**Wednesday December 13**__**th**__** 1995:**_

**Randy's POV:**

_Mark was spotted behind the kidnapper. I guess the kidnapper was calling for more demands. But why did he leave Mark outside? Well, it wasn't in the open. More like a clearing in a small orchard. The unluckiness of it all was the fact I was in a very bad position to free Mark. My leg was half broken. My arm was half broken. My nose was almost surely numb with cold if not broken. My ribs were paining me so much inside. I should've stayed with the old man. But it had to be the right decision that I left. I found my brother! He was there. _

_At first, I made as if to go back to the old man's house, and enlist his help. But I stopped myself. By the time we got there, I thought, the two would probably be gone and the best chance gone. I had to do it all myself. _

_I had to do something. Who'd leave his brother tied there like that after almost a week of looking? I moved slowly and cautiously. Mark's eyes widened at me and I shook my head to tell him to remain calm. Not to say a thing. Not to say a word. Not that he could. His mouth was covered with tape and cotton. I felt so bad for him._

_Not far from the sighting was a trunk of what used to be a small tree. How I wished it was light. How I wished both my legs were fine. I had to use my one good leg, and my one good arm to roll it to the booth, and trap the kidnapper, at least temporarily. I knew he'd be able to escape. Either he was strong, or he'd break the booth._

_I walked up quietly towards Mark after. I reached in my pocket, hoping against hope the knife was still there. It was. God knows how it didn't rust in the icy water. I snuck over oh so very quietly until I was within reach of my brother. I used the knife quietly, and freed Mark. _

_Mark took the tape off, spat the cotton out and was about to exclaim. Before he could, I silenced him again, "Run. Quick."_

"_What about you?" Mark whispered. _

"_I can't run," I said hopelessly. "But you can. At least you can make it."_

_Mark ran to the front of the booth to where the kidnapper saw him. The man exclaimed, and dropped the phone. He stared in surprise. Before he could do anything, Mark rolled over another fallen tree trunk, and with my help, we got the bigger one in front of the lighter one. The kidnapper was stalled for at least some time. Words could not describe how proud I felt of Mark, but I couldn't express it just yet. _

_Mark helped me along. I led him the way back to the safety of the old man's house. If we could just get there safely, we'd be ok. We'd be safe. The old man who saved my life would see to that. _

Mark and Randy made it ok. Mark hurried forward as Randy instructed him to do, and rang the doorbell. The old man answered, and exclaimed when he saw the young boy, and the injured Randy behind.

"God bless your souls," the man exclaimed. "You're back. I feared the worse. A blizzard is on its way. The two of you shall stay here for the next few days until that leg and arm heal, and the cold subsides. You tell me all about it over snack.

Randy sat back on the couch as the man helped him in. The living room was also messy. It was scattered with chairs here and there. One table lay before the old television. "I never introduced myself," he said apologetically over snack. "My name is Professor Easton of the University of Michigan. I used to teach Economics. Well now, I am a retired old man, early seventies. I'm old, but I'm also up and alive. I have no choice but to retire."

"What brought you all the way out here," Randy asked weakly but curiously.

"Quietness," Easton said sadly. "Now, about your adventure? I saw you last not three hours ago. What happened?"

"Instincts were right," Randy muttered. "Timing sucks. I found him by the phone booth off in the fields. The kidnapper was making a call, so I trapped him, and freed Mark."

"Mark is it?" Easton asked, eyeing the eleven year-old. "And"-

"Randy," Randy introduced himself. "Thanks for having us. We really appreciate it."

"Never hurts to help somebody," Easton said airily. "Now, I understand your parents will be looking for you. We need to decide how long you can afford to stay before setting off again. Definitely not before the blizzard is over, so you'll be staying over night at least."

"Then we'll have to go," Randy said weakly.

"You must stay longer," Easton insisted.

"If we got our mom and dad to know we were fine, they could come and collect us," Mark suggested.

"If only it was that simple," Easton said. "Assuming your parents are not outside looking desperately for you, my only phone does not work. It's been out of order for some time, now that I no longer need it."

"Do you have a car?" Randy asked as politely as he could.

"That was sold a year ago," Easton said. On catching the incredulous looks on their faces, he added, "Grand Rapids is not far from here, and there's a market close enough to walk. What did I need a car for? Walking is healthy."

"I'm with Randy then," Mark said honestly. "We'll have to go soon. We have to get back home."

"After the blizzard, you must go east towards Lansing," Easton instructed. "There, someone should point you further to Detroit. All ok?"

The two kids nodded. The man got up, stretched, and moved over to his arm chair. He fell asleep. As Mark tiredly closed his eyes, Randy looked over at the young boy. Randy had thought an apology was necessary, but Mark was talking to him normally. Of course, he would, after that incident, but Randy still felt he owed Mark an apology. When the time comes, he thought, he'd have to give it. Until then, Randy was up to spending every precious time he had with his younger brother.

_A/N: In reply to a review by DracoStarbo: I will edit many of my stories in the coming months when I have free time again, and this will be one of them. I admit I should've gone more into Tim and Jill's reactions though. However, some things were left purposely for reader's speculation. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. _


	15. POV II Cold

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 15: POV II: Cold**

_**Thursday December 14**__**th**__** 1995**_

**Randy's POV:**

_Finally reunited with Mark, we made our way to Easton's house yesterday. He kindly let us stay overnight. Today, we set out again to make our way back home. The kind professor showed us the way to Lansing. I have no idea how we're going to make it there unscathed and unchallenged. What if the kidnapper came back? The logs couldn't hold him for long could they? _

_The conflict didn't escape my mind. That's for sure. I can't forget about it, and I believe that's why Mark isn't talking to me much. I wonder if he'll ever forgive me for locking him out. That was pretty far. I could've just told him to stay out of it while I stood up to Brad. But that wasn't like me. I wasn't even talking to Mark. Why would I tell him to stay out of my fight with Brad? _

_Further, it's so cold out. The blizzard subsided last night, but it looks like a new one is coming to test us. We're walking across the snow drenched road, heads bowed against the wind. It's impossible to make it. Still, we have to try. I swear, it's so cold I'm about to collapse. We have to stop. That's all I can think of right now. I need warmth. _

_I wonder how much mom and dad are worrying about us. Pretty much, I guess. But I'm sure mom and dad are smart enough to kno- you know what, never mind. Dad's not that bright anyway. At least mom might have some sense though. I wonder if Wilson would feel guilty too. I mean, I know what I did was so wrong, but he didn't have to lose himself like that. But then why is something in the back of my mind telling I've been asking for it for too long? _

**Mark's POV: **

_I am so grateful Randy had found me. I am surprised, but grateful. We left Easton's house yesterday on the road to Lansing, Michigan. According to the map, it's still a long way. We have to keep going. If we're lucky, the police will find us. What're the odds though? A humor part yesterday was that we watched TV, and a rerun of Tool Time was on. I can't believe that old man likes Al. _

_I have no idea what Randy has in mind. All I know is that we are cold to death, and will die of it if we don't get warmth soon. I wonder if the tent entered his mind. Can't we just step off the road for a bit, and build a fire to keep warm? Now I am happy that if we die from the cold, and our family finds out, at least they will know Randy found me first._

_What about the conflict Randy and I had last week? I wonder if that came into his mind at all. Does he remember? I guess he does. I am still surprised he set out to look for me. Not that I thought he didn't care. I never met anyone who'd feel so hopeful, or even have the audacity to look for his brother he knew was kidnapped. _

_I wonder if Randy is thinking the way I am. If he's out here too, this far, with no parents, he must've snuck out. At least, if I know Randy well enough, that's what he did. But then, isn't mom and dad worried sick. I mean, first I disappear at night, and then Randy disappears. What about Brad? Did he also sneak out and look for us? Well, if I know Brad, I don't think he did. But, he would care, I'm sure. Just check the neighborhood on his bike or something. _

YPOV: (Your Point of View)

Randy and Mark were having one difficult time. It was so cold out that the Arctic itself was starting to look like home. With every step the two brothers took, more snow crept into their shoes and socks, and numbing their feet. Randy was freezing cold so much. At least Mark was indoors most of the time. Randy spent the last week outside looking for Mark. Now, Randy was about to pay the price.

He hugged himself, shivering and stuttering. He wanted so bad to apologize to Mark for the last week, but he was far too cold. His whole body was shaking. He tried many times to say something. Anything. But he gave up. Mark looked over at him. Mark kept telling himself not to appear too forgiving to Randy, but he found it difficult watching him suffer. Conscience taking over, Mark finally put his arm around Randy to warm him.

Randy felt grateful, but it wasn't going to help. After five minutes of shivering violently, he collapsed. His frozen face hit the soft foot-deep snow and remained half-buried. Mark looked down, and yelled in terror, "Randy. RANDY! He bent down on the snow, and shook his brother. "Randy. RANDY! RANDY! RANDALL!"

Deciding he had no choice, Mark, dragged Randy's body off the road and into the small orchard off the road. He almost ripped his jacket off himself and spread it over his brother. He quickly collected the wood from the dead trees, and made a fire in five minutes. He dragged Randy closer to it, in an attempt to warm him. One thing for sure, the warmth of the fire slowly melted the surrounding snow.

Mark set the tent by the fire, and cleared he ground of the snow. However, this could not possibly be enough for Mark either. Since he just took his jacket off to warm Randy, he just made himself colder. He sat down, shivering beside Randy's body, looking down for signs of life. However, soon, Mark collapsed beside Randy by the fire; however he collapsed more out of tiredness.

Still, tiredness or not, they were both immovable and unconscious, and both were freezing to the bone. Now, only time could determine their fate. Once again, it was gonna be life or death. Either one, especially the latter to them, was starting to look quite welcoming.


	16. The Neighborhood Search

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 16: The Neighborhood Search**

Tim drove around Detroit, looking desperately in vain for his two lost sons. Every day, he would leave the house, suspending Tool Time, and literally searching houses. Every time Tim saw a small boy, he would stop the car, and call out hopefully only to have his hopes painfully shot down. "Mark!" he called out the window. "Randy!"

Jill had taken to stopping at every house, showing their pictures to the inhabitants. Her luck was at least better than Tim's. Some simply said no they had not seen either of them. Others had kindly looked at the picture, and sympathetically said, "If I have a copy, I'll help you look." Jill would then return to the house very often to make or take copies. She was getting all the outside help possible.

Wilson had asked around at bars and schools. Schools and Universities hadn't seen either of them, but all seized the opportunity, and ordered all students and teachers to be on the lookout. Some teachers had even promised no homework for a week for any student to find him.

Some students would even make groups to help find him, hoping to all get the no-home-work week. Some neglected their homework every night to find him, some for the freedom, others finding time for both their homework and looking, and hoping to find them merely for higher status in the neighborhood. Other students were hoping to find them out of the goodness of their… er… hearts, (God, who am I kidding?)

Al, Bud Harper and Heidi dealt with the Tool Time crew, and for the very first time, Tool Time was temporarily cut off the air. After consulting with Bud, Al took the liberty to call Bob Vila for help, which he knew would piss the hell out of Tim.

"Hello, Mr. Vila, this is Al Borland."

"Hello Al," Bob said formally. "Listen; tell Tim I am sorry to hear about his loss. Tell him that I will do all that I can to help in anyway possible. Is their anything he'd like me to do?"

"That s what we needed," Al said hopefully. "We'd like your help in the neighborhood search."

Bob wasted no time. When he got off the phone with Al, he made more calls to his crew. Within minutes, his entire crew was present. Bob wasted no time. He said firmly, "We're gonna find the kid that Jim lost."

"It's Tim sir," someone said.

"Right," Bob said commandingly. "Everyone must all split up. We shall take different routes. Whoever finds the boys, call me immediately. If anyone finds the boys, there's a pay raise in it for them! Let's go!"

The crew marched out and into their cars, also helping to find the lost boys.

_A/N: Forgive the short chapter. Really sorry. Not much to write in this chapter. Who will triumph in finding the boys, if they're found? Tim? Bob Vila? A student or teacher from a school? _


	17. POV III Sadness

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 17: POV III: Sadness**

Mark awoke, shivering slightly from the cold. He sat up, hugging himself. At first, he could hardly remember where he was, and why he was freezing. After a minute or so, it snapped back to him, and with a twinge of fear, looked over at where Randy lay. He was still sleeping. His angle was different, so Mark guessed he was at least still alive.

He reached into Randy's bag, and pulled a sandwich out. He sat alone, eating for a bit. After he had finished, he looked over at Randy again. Still asleep. He reached over, and shook his brother slightly. "Hey, Randy. Wake up. Randy."

Randy didn't move. Mark gulped his fear down, and shook him a little harder. "Hey, Randy. Randy. C'mon, we have to move."

Randy still did not move. Well, wasn't Randy always a heavy sleeper? Mark asked himself. No, he was probably light. Well, Mark really never knew. He didn't know his brother as well as he would've liked. He shook him again, harder. "Hey, RANDY!"

Mark thought he saw Randy stir a bit, but he wasn't sure. No, it was a trick of the light. He was still motionless. But then, he wasn't sleeping. "Randy. C'mon, we gotta move! Randy."

_Take him to Easton. Take him anywhere. Take him to a village. Anyone who's human would help, wouldn't they. _These thoughts and more raced through Mark's mind, Not once did he think it was already too late. Was it? Was this it? The end of the line?

Tears swam in Mark's eyes, and as hey dropped onto the patch of grass where the snow had melted from the now-waning fire, he shook Randy again. He pat him on the back. He tapped his face. "Randy!"

"OH GOD!" Mark jumped. He looked down, tears still swimming. He blinked once to let them down. Randy looked surprised, and angry. "What the hell!"

"You're scaring me!"

"Sue me for sleeping, Mark!" Randy said sarcastically.

Mark didn't know what to say. He was alive? Well, why was he acting half dead then? Mark shrugged, and turned away. Randy reached in his bag for his sandwich. "Hey, where'd my lettuce sandwich go?"

"Uh…"

"Mark!"

"Well, I was hungry," Mark said defensively.

"Yeah, just like you," Randy said angrily "Typical Mark! Always typical pig."

"Don't call me a pig!"

"What do you call someone who dives into someone else's food?"

"Hungry?"

"Pig!"

"I thought you were dead!" Mark said without thinking. That was tactless. Mark had said the wrong thing.

Randy looked at Mark incredulously. "You thought I was dead? Now that explains everything."

"Randy, Id"-

"No, I understand everything now!" Randy said angrily, tone of misery in his voice. "Everything! You think I'm dead. So, _'thank you for saving my ungrateful life Randy, I think I'm gonna steal your food 'cause I think your dead!'_

"It's not like that, I swear!" Mark said loudly. "I didn't think anything until I was finished! You got it the- you got the wrong end of the- you're just acting"- Mark, speechless, turned and walked inside.

_**Friday December 15**__**th**__** 1995:**_

**Randy's POV: **

_Mark doesn't know. He has no idea how I feel. Lately, Mark has been trying to avoid me. I know it. He is still angry that this whole scenario from the kidnap till now is my fault. I know it is, but why should I have to take this from Mark? First my own conscience. Wilson scolded me. Now, I'm suffering Mark? How long till he cracks and yells at me. _

_Of course, I can hardly blame Mark. The least I could do is apologize. I never had the chance though. Every time I tried to speak, Mark changed the subject, and escaped the topic. _

_I even tried opening a different subject, and moving the topic to the incident a week ago. Every time the topic of the conversation moved near the kidnapping, he changed the subject, moved it into a different direction, or simply turned away and went outside the tent, or inside, depending on where we were sitting. _

**Mark's POV:**

_What is Randy's problem? He has no idea how mad I am at him. Here he is acting like nothing happened. As usual, he thinks me stupider than I am. Still, at least he saved me, and I can't ignore him like I'd usually like to do. I wonder if he'll ever say sorry for leaving me outside and getting me kidnapped. I can't possibly forgive him until then. Who would? Even if he did rescue me. Odds are we'd be caught again anyway. My hopes are not high._

_Randy is now staring into the fire. I know he wants to start another conversation. I hope he doesn't see through my attempts to change the topic. Probably if I started it this time._

"_So," I say. "How's mom and dad. Are they ok without me?"_

_I watch as Randy shrugged, probably still sore from the argument earlier, "Dunno. I left on Sunday. Knowing them, they'd probably be looking for us now."_

"_Do you think they'll find us out here?" I ask him._

_Randy doesn't bother to answer. I know what's coming. I chose the wrong subject. Randy opens his mouth and says, "I wish it didn't happen. Why didn't you struggle?"_

_The subject is too close. I get up and say, "Listen, I'm gonna sleep through the day. Keep watch, ok?" I retreat back in the tent, and sit on my bottom with my knees facing up. When will we get home? I want things back to normal. I wonder if we're anywhere near Lansing yet._

**Randy's POV: **

_Mark thinks I have no idea how he feels. He thinks I am oblivious to that fact. He thinks I am ignorant to it. He feels let down and betrayed. He believes I did him a lot of wrong, and that I owe him an apology before anything else? That's probably why he ends the conversations so quickly. I understand that, but every time I get near the subject, he changes it or flees. How is anyone supposed to apologize when the offended is always avoiding it? Do I have to say it straight out? It would be a week before the subject actually goes through. _

_Now, at night, he thinks I am asleep. I always act asleep to know what he's up to when he thinks I am unconscious for the night. What I hear tonight brings tears to my eyes, but I can't sob. Not when Mark has his privacy. It's enough I ruined his life. I wish I apologized today, because when Mark thinks I am sleeping, I hear him crying into his pillow._


	18. POV IV Brothers

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 18: POV IV: Brothers**

_A/N: Hi all. I've been getting some comments, and I decided to address them. Yeah, Randy and Mark still have cool feelings. This shows two minds of one character. Randy feels guilty, and needs to rescue his brother. At the same time, he still gets pissed at Mark, like all brothers do. What's important now is that they learn to put aside their differences, and get along for once. Now, get ready for this chapter. Many changes in POV this time. _

**Randy's POV: **

_Today has to be the day. I have to apologize. I have tried too much and failed too much. This time, I am going to do it differently. Next time Mark avoids me, I'll have to bring it up forcefully. If it's the only way, I'll do it. He has to know my reason for having locked him out in the first place. I can't leave our relationship tarnished. If anything, this incident should make us stronger. _

_I just hope Mark is ok after all this. I hope I didn't cause lasting damage on him. It was terrible listening to him sob last night. I could not believe he expected me to stay asleep. I was awake the entire time, but anyone sleeping through that would have to be dead. I wonder if he wanted me to hear. Probably not. I know he's miserable. I brought it on him. If he suffers from this afterward, I'll have to help him all the way through. _

**YPOV:**

Mark awoke to a long hard blow of cold wind. He stared up at the white sky. For a moment, Mark forgot what had happened during the past few days. Then it hit him. Randy had rescued him, and after a day, he had collapsed while trying to repay the debt.

**Mark's POV:**

_I can tell. He thinks I'm oblivious, but I can tell. He is holding it back, and it seems to be bothering him. Well, he was always the savage one. Time for my revenge. If it's bothering him, good. Why would I not savor the sweet pleasure of seeing Randy bothering inside? I want him hurt. He deserves it!_

"_You're up?" Randy's voice said from somewhere to my right. _

"_Y-Yeah," I say tiredly. I yawn greatly, and sit up. I look over to Randy. My brother is sitting in front of the camp, eating one of the sandwiches Easton packed for us. How he could complain about me eating his sandwich when we still had some? _

"_Are you ready to keep moving, or do you want to stop for a bit?" Randy asks. He passes me a sandwich. I take it unquestioningly, and bite. It tastes cold, and as if it would go rotten if left for longer._

_I shrug, look at the inside, and ask, "What's in it?" _

"_Cold steak," Randy says sadly. "Best we got now."_

**YPOV:**

It was an awkward moment for the two. They both had decided to stay put for a bit, and keep watch. If Habbleman came back, they'd have to get up and run quickly.

The two cuddled close by each other near the fire. This warmed them both a great deal considering they both went through unconsciousness in freezing weather and regained consciousness all by themselves.

As close as they were, the two weren't talking to each other. This reason along with the fact they had argued last time they had a free chance to talk, the silence was very awkward.

Randy wanted so bad to talk to Mark. To apologize. He didn't know how to open the subject. He had to open it directly and seriously. Randy opened his mouth to speak, but at that same time, Mark turned away from Randy and crawled back into the tent.

"Where're you going?" Randy called.

"Keep watch," Mark's voice called back.

**Randy's POV: **

_I don't have another chance to talk to Mark. So, now I guess I feel pretty bored. I don't follow Mark inside. I stay outside, and play with the snow a bit, just to kill time. I like snow. It has a cold, wet, yet dry touch to it. It's so solid, yet so liquid, and it's interesting to touch. I build one snow ball, broke it apart, and rolled up another, over and over, for an hour. _

_After the hour, Mark finally came back out. "Where were you?" I ask him. _

_Mark shrugs. "Just doing whatever. I wanted to be in the tent."_

_My heart sinks. Is Mark avoiding me? Why does Mark not want to talk to me? Especially after I saved his ass? What ungratefulness. But, something in my heads asks testily, what would you do? _

_I shake my head. "Yo, Mark, um"-_

"_Is there anything else to eat?" Mark interrupts. _

_That confirms my suspicions. Mark is trying to change the subject. I shake my head, "We need to save it. Mark, why've you avoiding me? C'mon."_

"_You know why, Randy," Mark says miserably. _

"_I just came and saved your ass," I say angrily, my conscience losing to my anger. _

"_It was your stupidity that put us in this situation in the first place," Mark retorts. _

_Ok, now that was just plain unfair. Does he seriously think I don't know what already? Or, is he just trying to make me feel guilty. This is why he pisses me off so much. So, I come back at him, "Yeah, like I haven't heard that before." I sit against a rock, and fold me arms miserably. "First my own conscience gets me, and then even Wilson. Now you."_

"_It's your own fault!" Mark says angrily. "I've been taking this from you too long now. Now it all leads to this… kidnap, and a chance to be found by that bastard, and both of us getting killed."_

"_You're welcome by the way!" I shouted back angrily. He is acting so ungrateful. Wow. Now I really do have a reason to fight the guy. He is so unfair and ungrateful. I swear, he really has to learn to take what he can frigging get!_

"_Yeah, you know, it's not like I'm ungrateful for you saving me, but it doesn't change a thing."_

"_I just saved your"-_

"_No shit you had to save me!" Mark yells. "Unless you want my disappearance on your conscience. Or do you expect to be so gullible to think you helped me out of the goodness of your heart?!"_

_Heh, wow. It's not like Mark to curse like that. Boy, he must be angry. Mark sits back against a tree, arms folded. I don't really know what to say, and I'm saved the trouble when Mark says slowly and quietly, clearly choking back tears, "I hate you."_

_Now, he got me. Not my nerves. Not my anger. He just got me. I'm finding it difficult not to fight the tears threatening Niagra falls over my face. "Ok. Hate me. I did the right thing, ok?" _

"_I'm not ungrateful, I'm just angry, and"-_

"_WELL YOU'RE DOING A GREAT IMPRESSION OF IT! FIRST WILSON, NOW YOU! HOW MUCH MORE? I'M SORRY, OK!" I yell. I don't know why I yelled. Man, I'm just angry. How can someone feel all these emotions at once. I feel so much pity for the child in front of me, so much anger at him, and so much sadness. There's gotta be a law. _

_Mark looks over at me, and repeats curiously, "Wilson?" So, I guess I got him now. I guess. _

"_He was angry at me too," I say with a mixture of sadness and anger. Like I said, all that emotion. First I'm talking calmly, then Im yelling, and now I'm calm again. I wonder when I'll yell next. Or, maybe I let out my anger after that yell. Boy that felt good! "I know what I did was wrong. Mark, I locked you out because Brad wanted to beat you up. You know that. And you know your capacity to want to deal with it yourself. If I kept you involved, it'd get worse. I kept you out while I confronted Brad about it."_

"_You confronted"-_

"_Yeah, and I didn't want you involved," I say, looking down, sobbing quietly. "You don't have to forgive me Mark. I just want you to kn-know, I am v-very sorry." And this time, despite all my meaningless apologies from the day he was born till now, I am truly sorry and I mean it._

_Well, Í got him speechless. I'm just looking at him. His face is quite expressionless now. But I don's like it. He's not saying anything, which is maddening. "Look, just say something ok? Do something. You can punch me. Get me back. Do anything, just say something!"_

**Mark's POV:**

_Now, that was sweet. This sound a bit cliché and lame coming from me, but it's the truth. That was really nice of him. Plus, this whole incident is now because of a simple misunderstanding. I guess this will teach Randy his lesson. Because if it doesn't, I got this over his head. "I- I don't wanna hurt you. I won't stoop that low."_

_Randy looks taken-aback. Well, I did call him low basically, but he doesn't really have the right to lose his cool this time. Besides, in this weather, it's impossible. Heh, maybe if I make up with Randy, he'd hear this joke. If I know him, he'd like it. He doesn't say anything. He would never. Randy deserves it, and he knows it. All the better if he takes offense! Ok, I suppose I'm still revengeful. Maybe I'm losing my cool this time. _

_Randy's crying! He's crying! Oh, this proves the existence of God. He's crying. I'm staring into Randy's now tearful eyes. It's embarrassing for him I guess, but I can't help it. It's surprising! Well, I suppose it's my turn to talk. "Ok."_

**YPOV: **

He reached forward, and hugged Randy tightly. The two were alone in the orchard, out in the cold, now crying very hard. Randy didn't know what to say or do, but wrap his arms around his little brother. That was it? Was Mark ok then? Could they continue back home in peace, and perhaps for the first time, have a real chat. A friendly one where none would yell or scold at the other?

"Randy," Mark said from behind his shoulder as they embraced. And as he spoke, it seems he was also choking back tears.

"Yeah?" At this, a small waterfall of tears is running down his face.

"I don't hate you, ok?" Mark said quietly. "I'm just angry."

Still, it fact did remain. This was Randy's fault, but Habbleman still held blame, and Mark had to forgive his brother. The two started sobbing hard. For once, again, Mark and Randy were brothers.


	19. Conversation

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 19: Conversation**

With Mark and Randy back together, and Habbleman apparently still off track, it seemed nothing could go wrong. They walked on through the snow, quicker and feeling much warmer. Perhaps it was merely the coldness of the situation when they had both fallen, but they both woke, and they both had a time. It was rough at first. It was tense and bitter between the two who stopped at nothing to make the other miserable. Finally, when the two made up, and truly admitted their apologies, the walk was going great, and for the first time, they were talking. They were truly getting to know one another.

It was getting much easier for Mark to forgive Randy for everything now they were better specking terms that ever before.

"So, what do you think we'll tell mom and dad when we get back?" Randy asked uncertainly.

Mark shrugged. "We'll just tell them you rescued me, and leave out the harsher life threatening details."

Randy laughed, "Yeah, we'll go right ahead and tell them, 'well, I fell of a cliff, we trapped the kidnapper in a phone booth, and we fell unconscious in a pile of snow. Other than that, we had a grand old time.'"

Mark laughed, "Well, whatever happened to the dude."

"What do we know?" Randy shrugged. "What do we _care? _I doubt he can catch up to us. I mean, we could be anywhere to him. I prefer just forgetting about him, and get back home. What a great holiday this'll be."

"Yeah, we missed school," Mark said happily.

"Why do you think I rescued you?" Randy laughed.

"Hey." Mark pushed Randy, earning a push back, and they both stumbled and fell in the snow, laughing. They got back up, and continued on. "Well, I just wanna get home, and relax for once."

"What do you do during your free time anyway?" Randy asked.

"That's simple," Mark said calmly. "Music, tools, help dad with the hotrod…"

"What do you all see in that crummy car anyway?"

"Simpler," Mark said. "Imagine making something with your own hands. You made it."

"Yeah, but it's boring," Randy said. "Make something else with your hands. Not cars."

"What would you make?"

"Well, I might write a book one day," Randy shrugged. "About, you know, the environment and its changes. Nothing you'd care about, heh!"

"Yeah, I'm a pig remember," Mark said sarcastically. "But, why do you always have to push me around. Seriously. Don't you get bored of it?"

"No, that's the one thing I'll never bored of," Randy smirked. "But, we're only joking anyway."

"Doesn't seem like it," Mark said lowly. It seemed he was going back on it again.

Randy looked down. Now what could he say. He did keep torturing his little brother to no end until finally it landed him in situation, and he couldn't pretend one of the reasons for locking Mark out was not to teach him a lesson. I was only half innocent and lost that credibility when Mark disappeared.

"Well, I'm joking anyway," Randy said lowly. "Look, it's just something we do, you know. It's in my job description as a big brother." When Mark still looked miserable, Randy added, "Look, you're our little brother. How many little brothers do you know actually have a good life. We're kidding with you, you know. If anything, it should make you stronger."

"Yeah, well I wonder if Brad'll ever stop," Mark said sadly.

"Brad's just a doofus," Randy kidded. "We're setting on our own paths now. The fight I had with him proves it. I like solitary time myself. You know, video games, reading, that kind of stuff."

"I'll play you video games," Mark challenged.

"You can't beat me," Randy laughed.

"Yeah, I beat three years ago, and I'm three years younger than you," Mark said back.

"I'll play you, but no crying if I win," Randy said smirking again.

"What kind of books do you read?"

"Adventure, heh, like the kind of thing I had just now," Randy said happily. "Setting off and saving you, and actually succeeding, that was one hell of an adventure."

"Something worthy of a book," Mark agreed. "Author it one day, and I'll help."

"You deserve credit for it," Randy agreed.

"I'll take the credit, but you write it and I'll listen to music," Mark joked.

"Yeah right," Randy pushed him again. "In that case, all credit goes to me. Wait, what type of music do you like?"

"Rock," Mark said promptly.

"What kind?"

"Heavy metal sometimes," Mark shrugged.

"That sucks."

"Well pop isn't all that good," Mark said back.

"I don't listen to pop," Randy assured him. "It's terrible. I prefer rock, not heavy metal, just rock."

"What kind of sports," Mark asked.

"Hockey," Randy said simply and promptly.

"That sucks," Mark said. "What happened to soccer, baseball?"

"Baseball is boring."

"Like golf."

"Hey, golf isn't bad," Randy laughed.

"Yes it is," Mark contradicted. "All they do is hit the ball in the damn hole, and commentator says in a bored voice, 'the crowd goes nuts', and there are a _few _people clapping calmly, like it's nothing. Whoever made that up needs to be shot at dawn."

"The Scottish then," Randy shrugged.

"What time is it?" Mark asked, sounding a little breathless now.

Randy looked at his watch, "five. Well, time flew."

"I dunno about you, but I'm resting," Mark said, stopping, and parking himself against a tree. Randy sat down beside him. "Hungry?"

"Not now," Mark refused. "I just wanna rest. Where are we?"

"No idea," Randy said tiredly. He yawned greatly, and rested himself against a tree. His eyes were closed.

"Hey Randy?"

"Mm?"

"When we get home, let's talk to Brad about all this," Mark said. "Settle it once and for all."

"That's a promise I can keep," Randy said, opening his eyes a fraction.

Mark rested himself too. He yawned. Randy looked over tiredly, and put an arm around Mark's back, "We'll talk to Brad, together, and figure out a way to make you happy."

"I'd like that," Mark yawned. With that being said, he fell asleep almost instantly. He too, though unconsciously, also had his arm around Randy, and they were nothing more than two boys sleeping against a tree in cold weather. Well, kind of cold. It seemed to be easing. But as Randy always liked to say, _'There's always calm before a storm.' _

_A/N: This chapter was not meant for the story, and is actually new. Written yesterday, when I decided it would be nice to portray a little something. It was an extra chapter, just to sweeten things up a bit, heh. Was it kind of corny. It was kind of meant to be that way. I'd be cruel if this chapters was left out._


	20. The End of the Line

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 20: The End of the Line**

Randy helped Mark up from the ground, and they helped each other pack the tent up. Usually, Randy packed it up alone while Mark sat stoking the fire. Now, they were both working together to pack it up, and helping to get moving.

It was great them being back together. Before the fight, Randy and Mark were on regular terms, meaning not so great and not so bad. Now, after all they've been through together, they were better, maybe even more than before.

Mark badly wanted to get home and see his mom and dad again. He missed home so much. At least on the bright side, he missed school. The price might've been undesirable, but the holidays were nearing. At least he didn't lose them. He smiled at the thought. As they walked on over the road, Randy looked over at Mark and noticed his smiling face.

It's been a while since Randy saw Mark smiling. He was usually miserable. Randy pat his back as they walked on together. Randy really wanted to get home, and show Wilson that he brought Mark back. He also owed a large apology to his parents. Maybe things would be better. After this, probably even Brad wouldn't pick on Mark so much. Not after this. And if he did, Randy would see to it he was stopped.

Before any could say anything to the other, a car drove up to meet them. It stopped in front of the two boys. Randy and Mark wore puzzled expressions which quickly turned to fear as the door opened and out came Habbleman, free and angry. Perhaps it was being stupefied with fear, or simply because their legs would not permit them to move. They could not run. Besides, if they did, Habbleman's gun, which was held in hand, would be used.

Habbleman looked a bit different. He now had scars on his face, and some bandages. From the looks of him, Randy and Mark guessed that he must've escaped from the booth by breaking it open angrily, and had to get his own ass home to patch himself up. That was probably why he took so long to catch them, but how did he know where they were?

The man walked towards the boys, face contorted with rage and anger. "Though you could outsmart old Habbleman, huh? Thought you could outrun me. No my boys. Car always outruns feet, especially when it is the feet of two young children, NO DEFENSE!"

The last couple of words being yelled made the two jump back in fear. But otherwise, they stood rooted to the spot. Habbleman went on, "Now, let's see who wins between a grown man, and two young boys. I was going to spare you, Taylor," he said to Mark. "Now, you've provoked your own death." He pointed his gun. He shook his head, "It's over. One of you can go back home, and tell your parents of your stupidity." He pointed his gun to each of them in turn, as if daring them to make a move, "Which one first," he muttered. "Which one first."

He stopped it on Mark, "You? Should it be you? You would've survived. You would've both survived. All it took was a bit of knowledge." He was speaking hurriedly.

Randy stepped in front, "No. I rescued him. Take me."

"What, no Randy, NO!"

"Mark, get home, I'll be- fine," he winced as he said that last word, not out of pain, but out of fear and uncertainty. Maybe this was the end of the road. It had to go one way or the other.

"Randy, NO!"

Randy felt a long shiver trickle down his spine. He knew it was over. He knew, as the first bang went off, hat it was the end of the line for him. An onlooker would've seen this going too quickly. There was a scream of intense pain. Another bang went off, and Mark clutched his heart. He looked down. It did not just happen. It could NOT have happened. "Randy! RANDY!"

Randy lie there, blood oozing out of his body, staining the snow. His eyes were closed. Mark wanted very much to feel him. To feel the heart, or hear Randy laughing at Mark's worry, and perhaps get up, a little shaken, a little hurt, but certainly not dead.

However, it was pain never felt before. He never felt this pain before. It was unbearable, and every bit of his body was begging him to succumb to the temptation and urge to end it. To go on. To die.

At the same time, Habbleman's gun flew out of his hand. Mark reached out and picked it up before the surprised kidnapper could react. It seemed Randy had thrown his bag at the same time Habbleman shot.

Now, it was just Mark and Habbleman. Habbleman eyed the gun for a bit, and then grinned, "Go on, shoot me. Be a man and kill me, Taylor. Murder me. Let's see just how easy it is for an innocent child to kill a full grown man."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do, YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!" As Mark yelled those words, it sparked two emotions in two people. Randy, weak on the floor, felt emotion beyond anything he ever felt towards his brother. Mark, as he yelled, felt sadness and misery for his brother, laying there, dead, on the snow.

Habbleman grinned, "Hah, well, he asked for it. It could've been you, you know. But, seeing as he let it go."

Mark looked down. He looked at Randy's body and then on the snow below him. It was over. The end of the line. He dropped the gun, half willingly. Habbleman lunged forward, and grabbed Mark. He pinned him to a tree. "Forfeit. Game over."

Mark noticed, from behind Habbleman, a black man coming up. Weakly from the floor, Randy recognized him immediately. The man was holding a wooden plank which came from his truck which was parked not far from Habbleman's car. He raised it. Before Habbleman could deal a blow, he was hit from behind. He dazed out, and fell unconscious. Mark was free.

Mark ran to the gun, but Baboo held him back, "NO!" Mark yelled miserably. "NO! Randy! HE KILLED HIM! He's… DEAD!"

"Nothing… you… can… do…" Baboo gasped as he struggled to keep Mark still. Mark was still fighting.

"I wanna… he's DEAD!"

"Calm down!"

"Save him!" Mark yelled in denial. "Please, anything, save him. Let him live!" He fell to the snowy ground, sobbing hysterically. He shook as he cried loudly. Baboo tried very hard to keep his own emotions in as he took what he was witnessing. He recognized the dead child as the boy who was on the back of his truck. He ran forward, and turned him over. Randy's whole stomach was bleeding badly, and after being turned over, Randy was gasping for air. His eyes wide open.

"B-Baboo."

Baboo reached into his pocket promptly and pulled a cell out. He dialed for paramedic right away. He almost ripped his own jacket off, and hurriedly placed it around Randy's wound. He wrapped it like a cast.

He then left Randy, past Mark's sobbing hysterical body, and seized the gun. He angrily pointed it at Habbleman's stirring form, and shot four times, wounding Habbleman's limbs. He picked him up effortlessly, and threw him into the back of his truck. He shut the door just as paramedics arrived.

Randy clutched his kidney area. Both were shot and damaged beyond repair. He wanted very much to go now. He wanted very much to give in to his instincts and body, give in to the pain, and let go. Only emotion towards Mark was holding him together, and it was bound to break before long. He was supposed to make it back alive. But if he died, maybe Wilson would regret yelling. Mark would be hysterical, but he could live without him before. He'd live through it. Yes, he'd live through it.

With that thought, Randy let go of his emotion, and waited, waited for death to engulf him, waited for the end of the line.

_A/N: Will I… or will I not? I'm currently debating with myself this very issue, and let me add it's a very harsh debate. _


	21. A Little Faith

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 21: A Little Faith**

Baboo supported Mark into the truck he always drove. He let him sob in the front seat. He stood, staring at Mark for a few seconds. Mark, the once desperately strong kid who tried very hard to fit in, and stay himself, was reduced the tears as Randy's lifeless body lay in the back. The one thing Baboo could do was drive him to the hospital. Randy had to get to the emergency room as soon as possible. Randy was shot in a critical area, and there was a very low chance of him pulling through. Baboo left for a bit to a point behind the truck, but Mark did not, could not, look.

Mark could not get the sight of Randy's body from his mind. Habbleman… Randy… and death. The red snow around his body was unbearable to look at. As it entered Mark's mind again, he let out a greater wail.

As the wail filled the truck, it fueled more will power into Randy's lifeless body, and Randy clung on still. Clung on to the last thread of will and emotion he had. But clinging was costing him a lot of energy and he could not hold it much longer. The pain was still too great.

The driver's door opened, and Baboo got back in. A back door opened as well, to sit beside where Randy's body must've been laying. Still, Mark did not look back. He couldn't. The tears streaming down his face, like Niagara, were unbearable. He was starting to shake, as kids sometimes do when misery is too intense.

As a greater wail filled the truck, Baboo looked aside as it was rolling through the road. "Calm down."

Mark spoke with such misery. Every word cost him great effort to say. Every few words were separated by a gasp. "M-my bro- heh- brother is- heh- d-dead."

"Don't believe it yet," a familiar voice said from the back. "We're going to the hospital."

Mark found the voice familiar, but his brain could not register where it came from. His world seemed shattered, broken in two. One half had Randy in it. The other half didn't. The one half in which Randy lived no longer mattered to Mark, and he could not spare his thoughts to where he knew the man in the back.

The ride was otherwise quiet, save for the frequent wails, some loud, some quiet, and some silent, of Mark Taylor. He too was bearing pain so intense he wished more than anything for it to end.

After half an hour, the truck came to an abrupt halt. Mark had dried most of his tears. Only once a minute did he raise his hand to dry a tear off. He was still shaking and gasping, showing recent signs of tears, but he was otherwise quiet as the three walked in. Miraculously, even as he walked in, he still did not care to look at the third man, as he was the one carrying Randy's body, and Mark still could not bear to look. He felt as though looking at Randy's body would confirm what had happened and he could not bring himself to that.

Mark was barely paying attention as Baboo and the third man took the register, and hurried Randy to the emergency room. When Mark finally looked up from his silent sobs, he found himself running with a team of doctors to the emergency room.

After ten minutes, Mark found himself sitting by Randy's bed. For the first time since the shooting, Mark finally looked over at Randy's bed. Randy's eyes were half open. His face was screwed up in intense pain. Mark's eyes widened, "Randy?"

Randy didn't answer. Then, he must be…

"Finally spoke, huh?" the third man said unexpectedly from behind. Mark, finally willing, turned around, and looked into the man's strikingly familiar face. "P-Professor- heh- Easton?"

"Don't speak much," Easton said concernedly. "The shock is still affecting you. I'll answer your question for you." He said as if he knew what Mark was thinking. Perhaps, within his long life, he too suffered a loss. "Did you think I'd let two young boys go out alone. I knew you wouldn't accept my company, and I could tell you two had things to work out. I followed at a safe distance. When your brother was shot, I stayed hidden, shocked at what had happened. Baboo here, I hardly know him, but appreciate his kindness. He helped you out of that sticky situation as you know, and he went to fetch me. I'm paying for your brother's medical treatment.

"Is there- heh- any- heh- hope?" Mark gulped down more tears threatening to spill out again.

Mark didn't know what to expect. He thought Easton was going to provide some hope. He forgot Easton was human like everyone else. And so to Mark's bitter disappointment, Easton merely shrugged.

Easton left long before Mark had the courage to speak again. Sometime late at night. No doctor or nurse bothered him. They worked on Randy best they could, leaving Mark to sit on the chair at the end, near the door, crying silently.

"I know what you must be going through," a skinny, spectacled doctor said kindly on his way out. "It's your brother, and you love him to bits. We're working best we can. All I can say now is he's in a coma, and is suffering internal bleeding. We're still trying to confirm damage to his kidneys. Stay calm, say your prayers, and hope for the best." Mark stayed quiet, screwing his face against the tears threatening to spill over his face again. The doctor reached into his bag, and pulled a sucker out. He handed it to Mark and said, "Here."

When the doctors left too, Mark got up, and moved back beside Randy's bed. He felt he belonged there.

"Hey, Randy," Mark said quietly. He felt as though if he spoke any louder, he'd start gasping again, and tears would once again assault his face. Yet, he could not confirm that. "I dunno if you can hear me. I love you, ok? Mom and dad don't know about this yet. I'm thinking to leave it till you- get better- I guess." He stopped as he found that his voice was getting louder, and though the gasping was absent, a river of tears seemed to be desperate for another assault down his face. He held Randy's dead hand, and said quietly, "Please, live."

Randy's felt Mark's hand touching his, and he clasped his own around Mark's, still weakly. He was too weak to speak, but he had to. His thread of life was running very thin. As Mark fell asleep, Randy, though unconscious, grimaced in intense pain. He gasped again, and grimaced again. The pain was growing. Emotion wasn't enough. Randy had strong willpower, but even that was being tested to too much of an extreme. He exhaled a last breath, and fell into darkness once more.

_A/N: Lo and behold. I realize some of you have been asking me to kill Randy. Some even PMed me, appealing to me to do it. After reading this chapter, and realizing how much pain both are in, are you absolutely sure this is what you want? It's a question I must also ask myself. Can I do it? btw, I named my chapters._


	22. Two Sides at War

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 22: Two Sides at War**

Randy was considered to be in too much pain to endure, too much pain to let go of. Randy so wanted to relinquish his desperate cling to life, but the intense pain and the emotion surrounding him as Mark clung to Randy's hand miserably done their part in keeping Randy alive. As Randy weakly clasped his hand in Mark's as his brother took it, Randy had finally found the will, courage, and power to finally relinquish his hold onto life. He finally let go of his emotion.

Mark was crying until sleep finally overtook him. He was awoken in the early hours of the morning by the dazzling sunlight flowing through the open curtains. Mark's eyes flickered, and he opened them, blinking several times to get used to the sunlight. The reality of everything hit the child in an instant. He looked over at Randy's bed. Randy's eyes alone seemed to be undisturbed by the wintery sunlight invading the room.

Mark stared into Randy's unblinking eyes, as if expecting them to flicker, perhaps, show a sign of life, however small, just to show that Mark need no longer worry. It did not come though. No matter how much Mark wished, prayed, or even tried to convince himself, Randy's eyes remained unmoving.

Indeed, Mark had been praying for a while now. Many times, Easton, who stayed at the hospital to watch over the Taylor children, would come in to see Mark, down on bended knees, head crouched low on Randy's bed, his eyes tightly closed as if constipated, his lips moving slowly and silently, unaware Easton was watching:

_Dear God. I'm not a frequent religion practice, but I remain your devoted. Please, let me stay with Randy. Let me know he's ok. Please, let Randy live. He needs to live. You wouldn't take him away… would you? _

Indeed, Mark had also tried to convince himself Randy was going to be fine. The day before, before the memorable moment when Randy clasped his hand weakly, Mark had argued with himself the very matter. Two sides of him were warring inside, viciously. So viciously, and yet Mark had still consented to believe that Randy was in fact going to be ok.

_He's dead. Get over it!_

No. He's not dead. He's fine!

_If he was fine, he would've awoken by now. How do you explain that?_

If he was dead, why did he clasp my hand? He has life. I felt it. How do _you _explain _that?_

_Don't you get it? He wants to tell you something. What else does he have to tell you, but goodbye? _

I know my brother. He'd never leave me. He has unfinished business. He can't leave. He can't die. He just… can't.

So strong was Mark's belief that he had cried out, as Randy clasped his hand weakly that last night, "Too much for you to do. You can't die… can you? Randy, say something!"

It was at that time when Randy's hand let go of Mark's. His eyes were still closed, and they did not open. Mark kept his eyes on them, expecting them to open, expecting Randy to answer his brother's call.

But as Mark had yelled these words, just when Randy thought he had the will, he once again clung back on to life, more desperately than before. Randy looked dead, just lying there with his eyes closed. Mark so wanted to talk to him again. One last time.

As the morning went on, Mark still stared at Randy. They had to open. They had to! And then… they flickered! Mark jumped up from the chair, and bended down on his knees again, "Randy! Randy! Wake up! Randy!"

Randy opened his mouth, as if it cost him great effort to say the jibber that was coming out of his mouth, "awana," he mumbled, eyes tightly closed. "emtreng." Could he control his movements now? But then, he was weak. He was alive. Mark's belief won the battle inside, and the other side had slunk back down into the shadows.

"Randy! Talk to me! Randy!"

Randy went back to the normal state. That's to say, the state he was in after the shooting. He was unconscious once again. Mark's eyes watered again, and he said more loudly, "Randy!"

"Mark," he mumbled. This time, it was distinguishable. Randy's eyes were still closed, but he was speaking very, very slowly, words separated by small pauses in which he took equally small, one-second gasps. "Too… much… pain… I… need… to… - I… want… to…"

"No, you don't," Mark said, shaking his head. "You don't wanna die. You wanna live. You wanna see mom and dad again. To let them know we're both ok. You c-can't." And Mark burst into more uncontrollable tears. His wails were once again so loud.

It caused Randy great pain to see Mark in a state like this, but he had to be strong. Randy was not going to be around forever. He, Mark, had to accept Randy's fate. He had to.

Randy was unable to let go of his emotion, but knew full well that if he died, emotion would no longer matter. He wanted Mark to be strong. And maybe, if he had died, Brad would never, ever lay a finger on Mark again. Wilson would never again yell the way he did. He called Randy a Fascist Nazi for crying out loud. And then, through this pain, slowly, but surely, the family would become stronger.

Mark cried so loudly, the doctors rushed in, one holding a sandwich. "Is he"-

"He was talking," Randy heard Mark say loudly and sobbingly. "I heard him. He was- and he- he said he"- He dissolved into more tears. Easton, who also heard the din, and rushed in, moved forward and wrapped his arms around Mark, like a grandfather. "Ok. Ok. You'll be alright."

The doctors rushed in just as Randy sank once more into darkness. They started shocking part of his body, testing reflexes, trying to get a response out of the boy.

"Code…" a doctor started, but another cut across him.

"No code," was said.

"What do you mean? He's still"-

"No code," the doctor said, and it was causing him great pain to say this, to say this to his assistant's _disbelieving_ face when he just joined two weeks ago, and had yet to suffer a procedure in which the patient was lost… "We, we lost him."

_A/N: You know, Mark is like me in this chapter. Two sides are warring so viciously, it can be considered warfare. What in the name of God? But who am I to selfishly talk about myself when we just lost our favorite character? _


	23. Too Much to Bear

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 23: Too Much to Bear**

Mark did not just hear what the doctor said. He couldn't have. He immediately tried to convince himself he hard differently. He was just worried for Randy. He was expecting it. After all, the doctor did not really look as though he said something, though the one opposite him still had the young disbelieving face.

That's it Ross," the doctor said again.

Mark looked up, hoping against hope he'd hear what he wanted to hear.

"We lost him," the doctor said again.

_We lot him… we lost him… we lost him…_

The words echoed through Mark's mind over and over. He just said it again. But no, there had to be a mistake. Mark tried very hard to hold back the tears now threatening to soak his face. He screwed up his face against the tears, and looked away from Easton, away from Randy, away from the doctors. It was too much to look at. All of them. All of them would only give him comforting looks, understanding looks, or looks of pity. Mark did not want that, He wanted so much to be alone. He wanted so much to be alone, in the room, with Randy. Maybe, just maybe, he could talk to Randy, and see for himself. What did the doctor know?

The young disbelieving doctor held his expression, and immediately started denying the truth. As Mark thought it over, he knew he was just acting like an idiot, worthy of another beating-up from Brad probably. Randy was dead. But then, why did he talk? He talked, clearly, he talked. It took effort, but he talked. How could he have died?

"Sir, with all due respect, he"-

"Ross, feel him, and give me one sign of life he still possesses," the older doctor challenged. This doctor had a gruff brown beard ascending into tufted hair over his dark face.

The young doctor, Ross, went over and felt Randy hopefully. He peered at Randy through his glasses down his nose which was skinny like the rest of his body. He felt him. He felt his heart. He felt his pulse. He felt his head. He felt under his nose.

"Sir, there has to be something we can do," Ross said deniably. "I mean, we have to"-

"What can we do?"

Easton watched as the two argued back and forth. Ross seemed determined not to accept that the boy had died. He looked over at Mark, who face was still turned away. Was he trying to hide his tears? Well, the doctors were acting pretty inconsiderate arguing in front of a child who had just lost his brother. Couldn't they take it outside?

"Can you even confirm"-

"It's not about confirmation," the older doctor said back. "It's the diagnosis. It's the signs of life and death. This child shows the signs of the latter, I am sorry, Ross, we lost this one.

"You don't even try to"-

"Look!" the older yelled impatiently. He then seemed to catch himself, and continued calmly, "You're new. I accept that. Throughout your career, you're going to lose patients. That's the way the medical world is. You have to accept the way it is, and deal with it. Fight it as much as you can."

"I am," Ross said quietly. "But, we have to try"-

"I'm done, Ross," the doctor walked through the room, past Easton, and outside. Easton, deciding to leave Mark and Ross alone, followed. As Easton left, Mark, forgetting and not caring that one doctor was still there, burst into the tears fighting so hard to come out. He started the small gasps again as the tears ran down his face almost five a second.

Ross sat quietly, listening to Mark's wails. How could he sit here like this? His mentor doctor hardly did a thing. How could this boy be announced dead? He looked over at Mark, who was still sobbing hard. His gaze lingered on Mark for a few seconds, and then moved to Randy's body. He walked over, heart pounding. He felt him again.

Why he was feeling the body of a dead boy, he could hardly explain. All he knew was that he wouldn't accept it unless there was undeniable evidence that Randy had indeed lost his life. He tried everything. He tapped Randy's forehead. He felt for the pulse there. He felt for a pulse in his wrist. He felt for breathing. He tapped his motionless, dead knee, hoping for a reflexive response.

"W-What're you doing?" Mark sobbed quietly. He wiped his eyes. Though he was talking, he was using great effort in keeping himself calm, and he knew full well he would have to concede defeat to the tears any second.

"His kidneys, we know he was shot twice, but only one kidney was damaged. How can that kill? I don't understand." As the doctor started doing exams and tests on the body, real scientific tests which would say whether or not Randy had died, Mark gave up.

Mark succumbed to more tears. It was unbearable. His insides were muddled. He needed to think. But how could he think? He could never forget the memory of Randy and him talking, for once, like true brothers. Did Randy know back then his life was drawing to a close? No. He could never forget the memory of Randy speaking weakly to Mark. Did he know then? Yeah, he did, and he seemed to have accepted it. He could never forget the memory of Randy lying dead on the bed. How did he feel? How did death feel? How did it feel knowing you were about to forever leave the world?

Easton flicked through the pages of the phone book. There names: Mark Taylor. Randy Taylor. But their number and residence… He found many Taylors throughout Michigan, but no one who was known to have any children until he ran across Glenview Road. _Tim Taylor. Jill Taylor. Brad Taylor. Randy Taylor. Mark Taylor._

Mark could never describe how his insides felt at this. He couldn't say how he felt anymore. Insanely miserable seemed to be putting it mildly. He felt his chest softly. He felt something coming, something big. Would it be Randy? Was he alive? Could this doctor's denial save him? Before Mark could think any further, he closed his eyes.

He didn't know why he closed his eyes. All he knew was that he did. He didn't know why he fell back either. There was a fragile, three-legged glass table behind him that could hurt pretty badly if he fell into it. But it didn't matter. Something told him he had no choice. He fell. Back hitting the marble floor, head hitting the table leg, which gave away at once, allowing the rest of the table to fall on him.

But Mark didn't feel a thing. It should've added to his hurt, but it didn't. Ross looked back to the source of the noise, and saw, with a stab of horror, the eleven-year old child unconscious, the glass table cleaved cleanly in two on top of his bleeding head.

Ross abandoned his attempt on Randy, and rushed over to a matter more important at hand. If this child did and Ross was the only one in he room, who should really have cared to watch him instead of focusing on an already dead body… but he couldn't give up. The elder told him it was over. But Ross did not want to believe it. Mark was crying. How was Ross supposed to think of the table falling on top?

"Taylor! Taylor! TAYLOR!"

At his scream, there was a yell of pain. It was a yell too terrible to have to hear. What had happened? Something told him it was not because of the table Mark was yelling. It was the pain inside. Not the pain of losing a dear brother. Another inside pain, unlike what Ross had seen often, but something his elder undoubtedly dealt with many times.

Randy was in two minds, and while the now one sided battle was taking place, one doctor was having a mental seizure. Ross closed his eyes as the yells reverberated throughout the room. When he opened them, he nearly had his own heart attack at what he saw. Mark was still yelling, eyes wide open, hands clutching his own heart.

From afar, the spirit of Randy Taylor, (or was it a spirit?) heard the scream. His thoughts seemed to be battling each other, echoing through the blackness where he was.

_What's happening?_

Why, you've died.

_But, I'm still here. _

Not for long.

_I can feel… emotion… pain… _

All part of the journey to the afterlife.

_Surely death isn't this… painful. Wait, what's wrong with Mark. Why is he screaming? Is something wrong?_

See, you're already letting go. Memory already failed you. Is the pain leaving?

_Yeah, but the emotion… the yell… it's scary. I need to be there. _

But it's over. Life is of the past.

_Yeah, it is, isn't it?_

No more school. No more worries. No more troubles. And it matters not to you how people are doing.

_I guess._

Everyone goes through this. You're going through now. This will make Mark stronger. It'll do more harm that good.

_What harm will it do?_

Believe me, when this is over, you'll feel nothing but… happiness.

_But the harm… it's scary. Listening… it's scaring me. Do I belong here._

No, not for much longer.

_A/N: Since I cant decide myself, and so many reviewers and readers r split, I decided to let the majority rule. I put up a poll for u all to vote on who u want dead. Thank u all for ur reads and reviews. U have no idea how much I appreciate them. _


	24. In Detroit

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 24: In Detroit**

Easton had made up hid mind as soon as he heard there was a code blue in the room where Mark and Randy were. Did he know that Mark had suffered a stressful breakdown, or for precise term, heart attack? No. He knew not what had happened. The code blue meant that Randy might have showed signs of life, weak signs, but signs nonetheless. Not once did he think the code blue was because of a heart attack.

Before he called, he ran over to the ward where Randy lay. He burst into the room, not caring to knock. "What's happen- MARK!"

"Code blue, sir, we need you out!" a masked doctor was saying hurriedly. In a rush, her strode over to the doorway where Easton stood, and shoved him out

"What happened to"-

"Heart attack, we need all available doctors!" the masked doctor yelled hurriedly and tensely into a megaphone. "All available doctors. Room 201. On the double!"

"Heart attack, but who- how- he was fine- he was"-

"Heart attack is not it. His skull received damage, and we- don't know if he'll"-

Easton ran over to the hospital payphone and slipped a quarter in. He dialed the number written in the phonebook, and waited, impatiently, yet praying, praying that someone would pick up…

Jill was pacing the room impatiently. The search party; Tim, with recent burns on his face; Marty, Nancy, Wilson, Al, Heidi, and Bud were sitting in the sitting room. Jill kept her eyes on Tim. "We can't find them. We must've looked for weeks. Christmas is nearing, and- and- our boys are"-

"Then we take the search outside," Tim demanded. "Outside Detroit. The police are swarming Detroit now. There's no way they're here. They can't've left the state either. Jill, they have to be somewhere here."

"Tim, what if he found a way through the security?"

"They might've gone to Canada," Heidi suggested, feeling down. Her hair was all dusty.

Bud looked at Heidi, and looked at Tim, "Tool Time will not continue without the kids. We keep it shut down until we know what happened, that's a promise."

"We take to the rest of Michigan," Tim demanded again, standing up determinedly. "Different areas to each of us, and alert the police in those areas. Only way. We've got to"-

His voice was drowned out by the sound of loud ringing. He jumped, and Bud looked questioningly at the telephone. It rung again. Jill, surprised, and daringly hopeful, picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Yes, YES, that's them, they- what?"

She was silent for half a minute, and her face full of happiness and enormous relief, was soon replaced by a face of fear and tears. "Oh, God. Oh no. Oh, God! NO! Where are you? Tell me where you are!"

Heidi looked fearfully at Jill, wondering what had happened. Jill didn't hang up. She threw it back on, and it fell off from the force, and hung off the receiver toward the floor, supported only by the cord.

Jill was looking at Tim fearfully. "They found them. Both of them."

"So? Where are they?"

"Lansing, Michigan," Jill panted fearfully.

"SO?"

"They- it was code blue, he told me"-

In a few minutes, Tim was driving furiously fast, with little care for the speed limit. Only after receiving a ticket did he slow down. Jill would've normally condescended her husband for driving this fast, but she was too busy in tears. Tim explained to the officer angrily what had happened, and that story, coupled with Jill's tearful breakdown, the officer seized his communicator, and spoke into it, "Speeding car here needs help!"

Within a minute, an additional police car arrived, "Here. Need a quick ride. Get in, quick. Taylors? Glenview? Kenton, see to it this Mustang arrives home safely."

"Yes sir."

The car drove off, now having Tim and Jill in the back. "Where to?" the driver asked hurriedly, driving towards the western side of Detroit, where he'd take the road off and toward Lansing, Michigan.

"S-S-St. P-Peter's hospital," Jill stuttered through her tears.

Tim had his hand on her back a long time. It seemed to take forever for them to get to Lansing, and the hospital. Lansing was in fact quite far. They drove for what seemed like days, though it was definitely a lot shorter.

Randy was still hanging in his limbo, and everything seemed to depend on his willpower.

Isn't this what you wanted?

_Well… yeah, but-_

Then why the hesitation?

_I guess I- I hear my brother. _

Your brother?

_He's in pain. _

So?

_His pain is my pain._

Let yourself go, and-

_But I can't. _

Yes you can.

_It hurts._

Once you accept your fate, the hurt will no longer matter.

_Won't it?_

It won't, because right now, you don't even know what's happening to Mark.

_If I go-_

If you go-

_Will Mark join me?_

What?

_Will Mark join me?_

How do you know-

_I wanted it to end, but now I'm here, in limbo, I'm not so sure._

And for the first time that night, Mark also entered into he same limbo Randy was in.

Just kill me! Just kill me!

_But you're so young._

I don't c-care. So was Randy.

_Was?_

Was. He's d-dead!"

_We both know he's in a limbo. _

What limbo?

_It's his choice. As it is your choice._

I just wanna die. For this to end.

_And if Randy decides to stay, and he sees you dead-_

Then- he'd-

_How'd you feel? How did you feel back there, seeing him dead?_

I-

_How do you feel now, after all, when it remains to be seen how Randy's reactions will be when your parents arrive?_

I- I have no feelings.

_A/N: Alright, This is important. I've never been faced with so much difficulty in deciding what to do. I urge all my readers to read this note of mine. As you see, they are both hanging in a limbo. For Randy, it remains to be seen what will happen. It all seems pretty even. For Mark, the same thing, but in a different manner of speaking. His second voice is more convincing than Randy's is. _

_For those who really care, I need your help. This is the bit of the story where author and reader works together. For those who voted in my poll, give me your reasoning. By majority, I did not elaborate last chapter. If majority alone was enough, I'd have had he reviews make this decision a long time ago. I need to look at the polls, and the reasoning. Reasoning for all sides. Does Randy die? Does Mark die? Do they both die? Do they both live? What seems more likely from this point. I'll hear reasoning. I've already hard some from some of you. By the way, if anyone voted, say, recklessly, and decides they want to change. Let me know, and I won't count the previous decision, but the new decision. _

_This time, it's never been more important for you to read and review. In advance, thank you all for your help. As I say in my profile, an author is almost nothing without readers. _


	25. Internal Conflict

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 25: Internal Conflict**

_A/N: Hey all. Well, the poll is over, and the results are in. Thank you to everyone to responded to my PM's. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It is honestly helping. For those who haven't checked yet, check the polls. They are closed. _

A dark-haired man was pushed harshly and aggressively into the room. He spun round and threw a punch at the aggressor. The aggressor just laughed, and parried the punch. The aggressor was wearing a blue, yellow-buttoned uniform. The door was shut behind them. They were in a large white room. Completely empty.

"One call! One!"

"Make it two," the man whispered angrily.

"You've done enough, one call, take it or leave it!" the aggressor shouted.

The dark-haired seized the telephone placed on a small three-legged stool, and put it to his ear. He dialed the area code for Ohio, and a number, and waited as it rang two at a time. Eventually, it was answered.

"Trouble?"

"Yes, I'm arrested."

The man waited at the door at Habbleman conversed. The man couldn't tell what Habbleman was talking about. But he doubted it was important.

"I'll get out eventually," Habbleman assured. "It's not like I murdered anybody." One second, and then Habbleman laughed. "You're right. I'll talk to you next time they let me, ok? See ya."

Habbleman was led out, and kicked into his cell. The bars closed harshly, clanging against the force. "Sit here, your trial will take place soon enough."

"Hmph, yah, whatever," Habbleman said angrily. He lit up a cigarette again, and sat against a corner. The police officer walked out of the room, and into another.

Meanwhile, miles away, in the hospital, Easton was sitting in the room. He heard the code blue, and came rushing over. When he left, only one child was gravely injured. Now, both were injured.

The room was relatively quiet, except for the occasional beeping from the machines attached to both patients. It was all quiet, and then… "I'LL GIVE MY ID WHEN I'VE SEEN MY SONS. GOD DAMNIT, I'M THEIR FATHER!"

A loud crash came from downstairs, and thundering footsteps. As the door banged open, Easton jumped up from his chair, and looked around. There was the man who must be their father. But, this was the tool man! The tool man was their father? Easton never saw Tim so red in the face before.

"Out of the way!" Tim said angrily as Easton moved aside for Tim. Tim strode up to Mark's bed first. "Mark. Mark!"

"Tim, he can't hear you," Jill said tearfully.

"Can't he?"

"Randy!"

"Tim!"

"BOYS!"

Tim was trying so hard to keep tears in. It was so difficult. He looked away from their bodies. The mere sight made him want to burst into tears. He never felt this way before. Not even when his boss, John Binford, died. But as he yelled 'boys', he burst. He ran from the room and didn't comer back for ten minutes.

Easton had so many things he wanted to ask the tool man. Questions about Al, the stunts always pulled… so many things. But now was not the time at all. He stayed quiet as he watched Jill bend over her children's bodies. A second sound as the door opened went through the relatively quiet room save the sobs.

In came another boy, probably a teenager. He had long blond hair covering his ears. He was speechless. Easton supposed he must be their brother. As far as he knew, Tim 'the Tool Man' had three sons. This must be the oldest.

He moved out of the room, no longer wanting to intrude. He left.

_I dunno what to think. _

What? You can still think?"

_Yah. I always think. I'm Randy Taylor for crying out loud._

Not anymore.

_Wait, isn't that dad? He sounds angry._

He's no longer your dad.

_He's always my dad. _

Where you're going, he won't be.

_Going where? _

See, you're forgetting everything.

_Forgetting what?_

Everything.

_Dad sounds upset. Dear God I never heard him act like that before._

Matters not.  
_I don't understand what you're talking about._

All will be clear once you… follow yourself.

_What the hell do you mean?_

Do what you know is right.

_Why's dad yelling the name- 'Mark?'_

See, you're forgetting.

_Forgetting what?_

You can't remember much.

_Remember what?_

Once you make your choice, you'll remember everything, and you'll be very happy.

_Wait a sec- Mark, my brother, right?_

Do you not know?

_He's my brother! What's happened? I haven't heard him in ages. What happened?_

I tell you, once you make the right choice, you'll remember everything.  
_The right choice? _

The right choice.

Where am I?

_Dead._

Who am I?

_Mark Taylor… deceased. _

I'm… dead?

How many do you know survived that crash?

_Now I think of it, I dunno much who didn't survive that crash either. _

If you die, Randy will join you?

_Not necessarily. If he actually pulls through, and I don't, he'll be miserable forever. _

But if you live, and he dies, you'll be miserable forever.

_I don't want this. I don't want this gamble. _

Life's not fair, Taylor. It's time for you to go.

_I don't wanna go yet._

Well, make up your mind. I'm getting impatient.

_I can't._

Well, then, I'll make it up for you.

_No!_

Then die. It's time.

_No it's not._

Yes it is.

_It isn't._

It is!"

_It… ISN'T_

IT IS

_A/N: Lots to say: Boy, I can really draw parallel between me and the two kids now. I feel the same way. I dunno what I'm gonna do. Before I give results, I need to give thanks. Your reviews are really appreciated. Though the decision still is not final, I have a pretty good idea where this story can head. I need to thank few readers. _

_Baxxie and Mischieftheblackwolf, for giving a strong case in both their defense. _

_Randy Taylor for the idea of threatening Mark. Great idea and I decided to use it. _

_Syrusfanatic12 for the idea of how Tim and Jill will react. _

_Syracusethedog, for giving me the idea of threatening Randy and starting this whole fiasco by PM. I am convinced now whatever happens, I had a lot of fun writing this. _

_If majority ruled, Randy would die. But the opposing side is strong in votes and in points well made. Both sides made great points. The best ones came from the readers wanting them both to die, those wanting them to live, and those who want Randy alone dead. _

_I certainly know what I'd like to do. But, I take readers into account. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. This is why I PMed some of you. One of the voters who wanted them both to live is me. But I'm the author. If my opinion didn't count, considering it already has loads of influence on the story, the results would be different. Randy would die. If I can't let both live, I'd let both die, because it would be cruel to kill both of them when, as some readers put it, they established a bond. Putting that into thought, it would be cruel to let them both die as well, though less so than killing one. _

_I have no idea when this story will end anymore. You have all given me great ideas and for that, I am deeply grateful. Thank you all. _


	26. The Lansing Conflict

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 26: The Lansing Conflict**

_A/N: Sorry I took such a long time to update. University work piled up like crazy, and I haven't had a chance to type for ages. I usually type my chapters a long time before hand, which enables quick updates, but this time, the chapters are being written along with the story. It was like this from Chapter 20. This chapter might surprise some. _

Mark and Randy continued their intensive battles internally, and in the hospital, at the outside world, things were differently. The fact was that both were in a deep state of semi-consciousness between life and death. Few if any of the doctors knew that. If they had, Tim and Jill would not have been the wrecks they were, and Brad would not have fainted at the sight of Mark's broken body.

Randy and Mark were fighting their inner selves over whether to go on, or to keep living. But the one thing holding back any decision was that they did not want to leave each other. Mark didn't want to live, and see Randy had died, or vice versa. Same was true for Randy. It created tough internal problems with both of them.

Brad had fainted at the sight of Mark's broken body. He, after all, also claimed a little responsibility. When he saw his little brother on the bed, as though dead, he lost his consciousness himself, and woke up on a white bed hours later.

"Its normal ma'am," a doctor was telling a hysterical Jill. "What your family is going through must be terrible. Your son suffered normal reaction. It's the other two you must worry ab"-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'THE _OTHER_ TWO?'?"

_Was that mom?_

You remember your mom?

_Yeah… why?_

Because you're on the brink of death.

_Oh… am I? _

Yeah, that proves it? You hardly remember a thing.

_Why's she yelling?_

_Because you're dying?"_

Who the-

_Who are you? _

_Your conscience._

_Who let you out of Pinocchio?_

_You know full well that your conscience speaks in the voice of your loved one. _

_Mark?_

_Yeah._

_What do you believe? Will he die? _

_I doubt it. He loves everyone too much. _

_Then, if I decided to live?_

Since when did you remember- oh I give up.

Tim sat alone with Professor Easton in the waiting room. Professor Easton was so willing to talk to the Tool Man, but Tim was too down right now. But Tim was curious? Who was this guy? How was he involved? Every now and then a black man walked in and out, to check on Mark. What was he doing too? What was this about?

"Excuse me," Tim said lowly. "Who exactly are you?"

Easton, surprised, answered, "Professor Easton of the University of Michigan. At least… I used to be. I retired last year."

"You saved my boy?"

"No, that's Baboo," Easton replied. "I looked after the Randy boy during his journey. You should be proud of your son, Tim. No matter what happens, he put a lot of effort to search for your son, and it seems he succeeded."

"How did you know I was Tim?"

"The Tool Man," Easton laughed. "Please. Are these stunts you do… an act or… for real?"

"Act," Tim said thoughtlessly.

Easton opened his mouth, but before he could express doubt at that, a loud bang went off.

Tim and Easton jumped up on cue, and Tim ran off, toward the window. That was where the sound came from. Easton strode over too, and looked out. The sight was horrific and surprising.

It seemed this was staged. There were two groups facing each other viciously. One group was in front of the hospital, in blue. The other was facing the blue uniforms threateningly. The man in the back was easily recognizable.

Within seconds, the speaker went off, "This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. The hospital is on complete lockdown. All visitors are to exit in an orderly fashion the back way. All patients remain in their positions at all costs. All doctors to the meeting room to be assigned patients to look after.

Jill ran in the room, Brad at her heels. The young doctor was hurrying in the opposite direction. Tim took Jill's sweaty hand, and Brad's, and they joined the others toward the back way.

Easton stayed where he was. He still looked out. And it seemed he wasn't the only one. The bearded doctor who announced Randy's death hurried over too.

A battle was raging on outside, and Habbleman was pointing his gun at every police officer in sight and within reach, shooting all he could. The doors shut, and a loud click went off signaling all doors and windows were locked tight.

Guns were being fired all over the area outside. It seemed the hospital was under siege. Easton looked to his right, but the bearded doctor disappeared. Within another few seconds, a gruff voice sounded in the speaker, "This is a message to all the doctors in this joint. Surrender what we want. Ward 301 will remain our target. This hospital is under siege. Surrender the two we demand, and the siege will lift."

Easton looked wildly around. It seemed so close. He finally notice, after a few seconds of looking, that the bearded master who announced Randy dead was speaking the megaphone in one hand. In the other, he was pointing his gun, right at Easton, face threatening.

Easton backed away…

What's happening?

_You need to die. I'm not saying this as an order either. If you don't, stress will only build. You're too young for this._

I'm too young to die too.

_No one is too young to die._

Yeah, they are.

_Only in some cases, Mark Taylor. This time, if you live, you'll only die anyway, and you can't hold on much longer. _

How?

_The hospital is under siege. _

"One move. You all know the drill. One move." The gruff doctor was holding Easton in a headlock, gun at his head. "You know the drill." A team of doctors were taken-aback, other were making disturbing hand gestures threateningly.

"Don't do anything you'll regret," one said timidly.

A bang went off, and someone screamed as the timid doctor fell. Nurses fled the room, and the gruff one laughed, "Its over. You know what he wants. This is our purpose. Now, let the two kids go. Hand them to us, and the hospital will be left. Take this as my resignation."

"Why do you need those kids?"

"Do you prefer the Tool Man?" the master yelled. "He knows more than the kids would! Hand what we want, or the old man gets it."

"It's one of you," a doctor said bravely. "Kill him, and we can attack physically. Guns won't be involved."

The gruff master laughed a hoarse laugh. "Are you joking?" He raised his right hand in a signal. In minutes, many doctors in the audience backed off, and took from their pockets handguns and revolvers. They pointed them at the clueless, innocent ones. "Now, we'll see who's outnumbered." He laughed again. "Will you cooperate now?"

No one said anything. Then, "Do your work! Fetch the kids for us. Kill the weak one if necessary."

Easton's eyes had widened in surprise and shock. A man in a white robe appeared from the doorway. His face was covered with a mask. He walked in. Easton tried to exclaim in surprise and shock, but he was gagged harder at the attempt. He didn't move out.

"Forget about it," he said in a harsh Indian accent. "I have my own objectives. You will not take another innocent life!"

"What the"-

"Release the man!" he yelled. He ripped his mask off, and there stood Baboo. "Release him."

All at once, the betrayers pointed their guns are Baboo. The gruff master laughed again. "Ok, ok, you win. Easton goes, but the hospital remains under siege. The battle still goes."

The police were shooting all at once. The group on the other side seemed to have staged this, and nothing made sense anymore.

_A/N: If this seems unrealistic, good. It's an idea I had. But I got it all planned out. It'll make sense eventually. At least the important parts will. I'll leave some parts for you to speculate on. _

_I think I've decided what I'll have happen. I'm not so sure, but I'm leaning toward one side. Some may be happy at what I decide, but others may be disappointed. That is inevitable, since everyone is so cleanly split. _

_I'll try to update sooner… if I can._


	27. Save the Little Children

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 27: Save the Little Children**

The threat on the hospital was still going, and there didn't seem any way to stop it. It was hard to believe to the normal outsider that this was happening in America. A hospital was under siege, and was under the mercy of an underground group. Looking out the window, now freed, Easton saw that the line of blue was thinning. Habbleman, triumphantly winning in the fight, was still at the back, shooting and killing everyone in his sight and reach.

Easton turned away from the window to look at the incident in the room. The master was against the wall, Baboo advancing on him with his gun. "It's over. You've done too much."

Without hesitation, Baboo quickly shot, and the master fell in pain. Another shot and death seized upon the master. Baboo looked over at the others, and pointed his gun at the others threateningly. "Get out!"

They didn't need telling twice. Three by three, they filed out of the room. They fled outside to join the raging battle outside. Baboo's eyes met Easton's, and signaled to follow him out the room, and to the ward where Mark and Randy still lay.

Easton turned to get out, and as Baboo turned to shut the door, five men entered from outside the building. Baboo reacted quickly. He seized from his strap a grenade, and held it up threateningly. "Back, now, or it will be over…"

The men backed off slowly. "We're unarmed."

"Liar."

"Get out," Baboo said to Easton.

"Wait."

"Out! Get to their room!"

Easton didn't need telling twice. He backed out the room just as Baboo threw the grenade, and a hard explosion rocked the building. Easton ran toward the room, and burst in. Seriously. He was getting too old for this. Luckily, both boys were safe in bed. He stood over for five minutes later, thinking that probably the Indian man had died, as he threw the grenade. It looked light, but surely it was strong enough to kill those in the room.

Another explosion rocked the building. Apparently, the master doctor thought Baboo was on his side, but Baboo turned on him. For what reason was unknown, but if Baboo had a light grenade with him, so did the other men in the gang. That meant that the police were overpowered. What was happening? Why was there even a fight? Wasn't this a simple kidnap case?

As another explosion sounded from outside, and more screams, the door burst open and in ran Tim and Jill. Tim and Jill both had looks of fear upon their faces as they backed against the wall, and huddled around their unconscious children.

"Brad is ok, honey," Tim said, trying to come the hysterical Jill down. "He's at the station."

"It's Randy. It's Mark. They have to live!" Jill cried. Before Eaton could ask anything, another bang went off, the ground shook, and Jill screamed, "They're coming!"

A second later, on cue, Habbleman ran in, laughing. His gun was pointed wildly at Tim, then at Jill, then at Easton, then at Randy, then at Mark, and then at Tim again. "Finally, here we are. I've been waiting for this."

"What do you want?" Tim said angrily.

The look on Habbleman's face made him completely unrecognizable. His eyes were almost blinded with insanity as his face was alight with malicious pride. "You, your tool, the laser," Habbleman said insanely.

"You're mad!" Jill yelled.

"Mad!" he laughed. "Yes, mad! Just the thing I- no- we need to fight back. You know what I want Taylor! The tool, or…" he pointed his gun at Mark's laying form. "Or your son. He can't have died. More likely he lived than the other pathetic one."

"What do you want with my kids?" Tim demanded.

"Leave us ALONE!" Jill yelled tearfully. She was interrupted then by a loud deafening bang. Both ducked, and looked nervously to their children, expecting to see a bullet hole in one of their kids. Before they could investigate the source of the noise further, another bang went off, and the foundation shook once again.

Habbleman laughed in a maniacal way over the din, and shot his gun threateningly in the air. "Get back against the wall! Both of you! WALL!" Having no more choice, Tim and Jill backed against the wall as told. "Tool Man, empty your pockets!"

"But"-

"EMPTY!"

Tim obliged. Jill sobbed quietly. Tim only had a wallet in his pocket. Easton moved forward to stop the robbery, but Habbleman did a back kick and he fell back in pain. He seized the wallet, and looked through it. He threw the kid's pictures away, ripped one dollar bills, flicked coins at Easton's recovering body, and seized bundles of the dollars Tim kept.

He threw the empty wallet back at them. "You will walk out. You will accept the loss of your child."

"No, please," Jill sobbed.

"YES! OUT! OUT BEFORE I MAKE YOU! OUT!"

"No, not without our sons," Tim said firmly, standing his ground.

"OUT!"

"NO!"

"OUT!"

Another bang went off, this time from inside the room. Tim yelled, Jill screamed, and the ceiling near the corner crumbled as the foundation shook again. It seemed they were inside the hospital now.

From the floor, the reco vering Easton could hear footsteps thundering upstairs quickly. But who were they. The room was filled with tension on both sides. Who was it; the police or the gang?

Habbleman froze. Tim looked behind the kidnapper at two men dressed in blue. They ran in, and lay belly-face-down on the ground, guns pointing at Habbleman. "You are under arrest. Hands up."

"It's over," Habbleman muttered. He reached in his pocket. The movement provoked a sudden shot from a nervous officer, and Habbleman withdrew his hand quickly, clutching something. The shot missed, hitting a hole in the wooden bedstead where Randy lay.

"One more move, and I drop this grenade, and blow all of us up," Habbleman threatened calmly. "Now out of the room and I'll deal with these two myself." The two officers got up uncertainly, and eyed the grenade. "Back off," Habbleman whispered threateningly, though still with a trace of insanity.

Before any of them could oblige, refuse, and anything, three more entered from behind them and the window smashed. Habbleman ducked to between the beds as shots were being fired, now inside the hospital, in the very ward where this whole thing was centered.

Habbleman pointed his gun at Randy's unconscious head, and clicked a metallic thing on the top. He was prepared to shoot for the last time, at his ultimate target. He fingered the trigger, grinned, and looked over at Tim's tearful face. "It's over. Learn a little something," he said as his finger pulled the trigger.


	28. The Lost Boys

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 28: The Lost Boys**

_A/N: Hi guys. I'm back. It's being a long while. I'm simply not writing the way I used to. So I'm gonna finish this story, and take a break to focus on my studies. During the Christmas vacation, I will then return to writing. I will always read however. Now, to the next chapter. Story almost over. For those who don't' know; Baboo is he Indian who owned the truck Randy once rode at the back of. Easton is the old man who saved his life, and helped Randy and Mark to the hospital. I've been getting loads of reviews and PM's asking who they were. _

Habbleman fingered the trigger, glaring threateningly at everyone. But this time, there was gonna be no compromise. It was time the child died, and made an example of to those who thought of opposing him. Even Tim could be seen tearing as Habbleman pulled the trigger. A loud bang went off. The bang was louder than usual, it sounded as though two shots were fired at once.

Jill screamed, and a cry was heard from outside the building. When it was safe to open eyes to a terrifying sight, the expected did not meet their eyes. A hole where the bullet hit was by the wall, an officer had a triumphant look on his face, pointing where Habbleman's gun was, who was now disarmed. The gun lay on the floor.

"He missed," a tentative officer said in a small voice.

"The gun was hit out," another said in a surprised voice.

Habbleman grinned, and pointed his hand to Tim and Jill. Three of his men grabbed hold of them. The officers pointed their arms at the men now. Habbleman stepped between the parties, and laughed, "Don't do anything unwise, officers. You wanna save your bullets for what might come up later." He stepped back to between the beds, and looked over at Mark's bruised but otherwise peaceful looking childish face. "Ah, he was such a sweet child. He was trying to stop this you know. He was... quite heroic." He laughed again. "I give commends to the children. God knows if they'll ever wake up. Pity they'll wake as orphans. TAKE THEM AWAY!"

The men moved out, keeping hold of the struggling Tim and Jill. The officers made to stop the kidnap, but five more men stepped in. "You're officers are down," Habbleman announced happily. "This is the beginning of a new era in Michigan. It was all part of a bigger plot. You were never going to win."

At these words, shots were fired once again. Habbleman ducked out of the room, laughing with his men as they escaped outside. The officers, in fear of losing another battle, charged towards the men. One officer fell dead, the others pushed into the aggressors, and shots were fired again. With the aggressors injured or dead on the floor, the officers ran after them.

By the time they reached outside, the men and the kidnapped parents were in a large black truck. The officers yelled in defeat as it drove away. "We're gonna lose them."

"It's not too late!"

"By the time we start our own cars, it will be!"

At that moment, another police car drove up. The back doors opened, and the driver yelled, "In, quick."

There was no need to be told twice. The officers jumped in, and they drove off after the car. Habbleman looked in the rearview mirror from the armored truck, and yelled, "Shoot them. Intercept their car. Make sure it never rides again!"

Shots were fired from windows of the armored truck. Officers in the car behind reached for their own arms, and poked their heads outside. Shots were being fired from both cars as they took a turn and into the main town of Lansing.

People screamed as the car was joined by two more police cars chasing the truck in hot pursuit. Meanwhile, back in the hospital, the doctors were uncertainly looking around.

Ross, the apprentice doctor who was once working under the bearded master stepped tentatively into the embattled room where Mark and Randy lay. He gulped, and stepped towards Randy's bed.

Easton walked into the room where he had left Baboo during those fearful moments. His legs were shaking, and it was not because of old age. So tense was the situation that Easton was forced to sit against the wall for five minutes before he could allow himself to walk again. But eventually, he did pick himself up and walked to where the room was. The sight was a mess.

Baboo's body was on the floor where he had once stood, holding up a grenade. The group of militiamen Habbleman had headed was on the floor, also in a pool of blood. The detonated and exploded grenade was burned by the group of men. Easton walked over to Baboo's body, and felt him. He was dead.

A small team of doctors walked in. They looked around with shock. Another ran in. "I have the amount dead."

This one had frameless glasses on his skinny face. "The dead is fifteen officers, and ten militiamen."

"Is that a good number?" a blond nurse asked.

"Well, the guy had thirty men with him," the doctor said. "They were against a small group of officers. It seemed they underestimated the situation. Twenty officers fought today."

"So five are living," the nurse got straight.

"And God knows where they are," the doctor continued.

The police was still chasing the truck throughout the day. Shots were being fired, but few hit targets, and the only targets hit were unlucky civilians. Eventually, everyone knew to stay indoors while the police sorted out their business.

The doctors gathered once again in the ward where Randy and Mark still lay. Easton skulked in the corner, watching.

"The master doctor was against us," the skinny doctor who announced the deaths said in a small voice. "Such a tragedy."

"This hospital is gonna close," the blonde nurse said, wiping her eyes. "This kind of day, I'll be surprised if we remain in business."

"But it isn't our fault, Leslie," the skinny doctor protested.

"It won't matter, Fred," Leslie said. "People will want to be kept in safe wards, and we can't blame them."

Fred turned to the window, and looked out. The remains of the battle outside were apparent. The nurse felt both kids, and turned to Ross, the apprentice. "Ross, your master had announced his death," she pointed at Randy. "It turned out he was with the militiamen. I understand you checked him yourself, probably in a state of denial. What were your results?"

Everyone looked at Ross as he opened his mouth to answer.

_A/N: The next chapter will come sooner than usual this time. Story is almost over, and I've made my decision. Some will be disappointed, others will be happy. But that was inevitable. Enjoy. _


	29. Tale of Two Brothers

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 29: The Tale of Two Brothers**

Ross looked down as the nurse asked the question he had been waiting for all day. Fred eyed him nervously. All eyes were on him, Ross could feel mental and emotional pressure weighing down on him. If he did not let this out soon, it was likely he'd have his own heart attack.

"The boy was dead," Ross said quietly.

The room was quiet. No one seemed to be able to speak. They looked at one another, and then over at Mark's bed. How he'd react when he woke up. _If _he woke up.

"I tried getting his heart going again," Ross continued. "I tried everything. I tried electrical machines to stimulate his heart. I tried reflex check. It was kind of… cheesy… for lack of better term. Nurse, check him again. And check his brother too. I never checked after the incident."

The nurse, confused but hopeful, moved over to check Randy's body.

_This is creepy. _

Strange indeed. You can decide to die anytime. Not too late.

_No way!_

_I swear to you Mark. I will return you home. _

At that moment, Randy, though in limbo, heard once more in his solitary darkness what he swore to Captain Stevens at the beginning of this adventure. _"There's no way I'm going back home. Not home. Not school. Nowhere till I find him."_

_*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*_

Is he ok?

_I dunno?_

_I'll be fine, Mark._

_*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*_

There was a great gasp of breath from everyone in the room. Everyone in the room. Literally. Easton gasped out of surprise. The nurse nearly had a heart attack. Ross jumped back as Randy's whole body jumped from the shock. Another gasp came from his body.

"I need help!"

All the doctors rushed in, and started providing whatever they could to the nurse and Dr. Ross. "I need the wire, on the desk. George. The wire! GET THE WIRE!"

George obliged. The nurse looked frantic, and Ross hopeful but also as though he couldn't dare believe Randy would wake up. He was announced dead. How could he awake? "It's not possible," he muttered.

"I know," the nurse muttered back. "But in some cases, I guess he got lucky. Plus your master was a psycho. Forget that?"

Another shock. "What're you all doing?" the nurse yelled as Randy gave another gasp. "Is this kid the only one here?!!!!!! Help the other. HELP THE OTHER!"

No doctor seemed able or willing to argue or oppose. They did as they were told without question.

"Check the body."

"Make sure he's ok."

"Is he?"

"He's alive… for now."

"What do you mean 'for now?"?'

"Do what you can?"

Doctors were rushing around the room, doing as told by the nurse or another. All seemed to be in command, but the nurse was taking charge. Easton still stood in the corner, watching everything hopefully.

Thy kept at work for over an hour until the nurse checked Randy one last time, rushed over, checked Mark, and then sat down on the chair where Mark sat when he was still awake. She clutched her chest. "It's over."

"Well?!"

Relax, Ross," she breathed. "Randy's fine. That's for sure. No doubt."

"No doubt?"

"He's got nerves and guts of steel to survive that," a doctor muttered.

"A lot of willpower," Ross commented.

"What about Mark!" Easton threw in.

The doctors seemed taken-aback at Easton's sudden entry into the group. Some were surprised he was still there. A couple looked as though they never seen him before. The nurse answered. "I don't know. We've done what we can for him. The rest is up to God."

"Got have mercy," Fred muttered. "Amen."

"Amen," they all repeated as though they were saying grace at a thanksgiving dinner table.

_*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*_

Habbleman's car had crashed into a junkyard trash pile. His men had jumped out, and a battle took place once again. The police cars arrived in full speed, and halted. Shots were fired from the windows. Two militiamen held Tim and Jill back as the battle took over for fifteen minutes.

Finally, the final man fell. Three officers surrounded Habbleman, and the kidnapper, finally defeated once and for all, put his hands up. The men let go of their hostages, and five more officers took over.

_*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*_

"You were out for- quite some time," Easton said quietly. Once again, at last, Easton was talking normally. He talked more normally than he talked in over two days. It was so hard to believe less than half a week had passed since the shooting.

"Yeah? How's Mark? Is he still here?"

"My boy, to your left," Easton said sadly.

Randy looked over. That was when the intense battle he had gone through during his limbo came back to him. Mark had seemed hurt. His hurt was causing Randy hurt. Mark was still out.

"Is he"- Randy stopped. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Before Easton could answer for him, a small, weak voice came from somewhere in the room. "Randy."

Randy kept his eyes on Mark. His eyes were still closed. "Randy," It went again. Randy was sure of it. Mark's eyes were closed, but he must've been too weak to open them. He was speaking.

"Mark."

Randy jumped out of bed despite the weakness, and as weakness would prove it, the second his legs hit the floor, he crumbled, his knee falling into intense pain. It felt as though his knee cap was shattered. Easton laughed, and even Mark managed a small grin.

"Your legs are out!" Easton laughed. "You'll… need a wheelchair."

"A what? I'm handicapped?!"

"Relax, dear boy," Easton said, still laughing joyfully. "You're lucky to be alive. As for you, Mark. I'm happy to see you're ok. How much do you remember? Much?"

"Only remember… glass," Mark said lowly.

Now that Randy looked at Mark directly, he saw how his brother had looked. Mark had a cast over his forehead, his nose was covered in a thick white bandage, and his right eye was scarred and covered with a white bandage as well.

"The skull was damaged," Easton informed Randy as he helped him back into bed.

"Yeah, how?"

"Well, I'll save it for you two to talk about," Easton said fairly. "The skull was damaged, and Mark, your nose is broken, and your eye scarred. We don't know if it's permanent."

In all honesty, Mark could only make an educated guess at why he was injured so much. Now he noticed there was a tight bandage and cast on his forehead. There was a cast over his chin, and one over his chest. He couldn't stand the intensity. "I was hurt," he said quietly. "And… Randy was so close to waking up, I"-

"Say no more," Randy interrupted. "But then, why do I need a wheel-chair?"

"Well, one shot damaged one kidney of yours," Easton informed. "The other missed. Hit your leg. It was a tough hit, and your knee cap was broken. Shattered."

"Tough," Randy groaned. "But, if it's shattered, I can heal it, can't I?"

"That'd take further operation," Easton informed. "I think you're best in a wheelchair, for now anyway."

_*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*_

"Randy?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're ok."

"Yeah, I know," Randy said quietly.

A week had passed. Mark still had a white cast on his forehead. Best scenario was it had to stay on for another month. He had a nasty scar on it though he promised himself he'd cover with a bandanna or a hat. His eye was still scarred, and covered. They still didn't know for sure if it would recover. Easton had arranged graciously for an officer car to take them to their Glenview Detroit home. "Your parents, once freed, were told to wait patiently. Imagine how much self control that takes."

"Too much," Randy said. "I know self control."

"Well educate me," Mark said sarcastically. "I kinda lost it."

They laughed as Mark pulled Randy into a wheelchair, and they strode off down the road and to the house which they had not seen in such a long time. "Finally. Randy. We're home."

_A/N: There you go. That's the truth. I'm sorry to whoever is disappointed. I asked myself if I could bear to do it. Eventually, I decided I am a major coward, and let Randy and Mark survive. At least for this story. Any other Home Improvement stories I may write in the future, who knows. See, after all the intensity of the story, and the hospital scenes and the battles, could I kill any of them? Had I killed both of them, the story would be tragic, and by poetic justice, misfortune wouldn't end there. Wilson would move away, Tool Time would go off the air, Tim sued, Jill fails her psychology classes. Seriously. If one had died, the other would be forever in pain, especially Randy. But even if Mark had lived, could he live with himself? To fix everything that happened, I had to let them live. SO, I decided to kill poor Baboo in return for letting them live. I never intended for Baboo to die actually. He was one of my favorites. He was a hero. Go back to the beginning, and ask where the boys would be had he not existed. The ride Randy took at the back of his truck still remains one of my favorite parts. To make up for it more, I shattered Randy's knee cap, and handicapped our favorite character. To go further, I broke Mark's nose, scarred his forehead, and his right eye. The fate of his eye is left up to the readers._

_Anyway, stay up for the Epilogue. _


	30. Epilogue: Confessions

**The Kidnap**

**Chapter 30: Epilogue/Confessions**

The events of what had happened during the period between the beginning of December, and Christmas of 1995 would never be forgotten. Long after Randy, Mark, and Brad would go their separate ways, they would always remember this day. For period when they got into fights as all brothers do, this memory brought them all down to earth as sharply as possible.

When Randy and Mark arrived back home, the first kid Brad had rushed to hug was Mark. Not because Mark was kidnapped, but because Brad owed him a huge apology. He had given Randy a hug, perhaps smaller than the one he gave Mark, and when they broke apart, Brad took a breath.

Before he could say anything, Mark shook his head, and said, "Forget about it. This was punishment enough."

The ski trip Mark was due for was of course a no-go for Mark due to the past events. He decided, under agreement with Randy, he'd stay home, and work out a Christmas talk with Brad, and Randy already swore he'd never go physical with Mark again.

For dinner, Tim, Marty, Nancy, Wilson, Al, Bud, Heidi, Jill, Bob Vila, and Bud Harper sat down. The kids of the neighborhood sat down in their own homes, disappointed that they had not been the ones to earn a reward, but happy nonetheless that Mark had ultimately been found.

During dinner, Wilson had stood up, and clinked his glass, "I'd like to say," he cleared his throat, "An apology to Randy, for what I said to him earlier in the month."

As the table clapped, Randy looked down and nodded. He said quietly, "Thank you."

When Tim had time alone with Al he turned to him, and said, "You called Bob?"

Al looked up, speechless. Yes, he did call Bob, and Tim was pissed. For safety and security, Tim bade a tool goodbye on Tool Time, and the laser was off production by strict order of Bud Harper. Habbleman was arrested and thrown behind bars for a very, very long life.

It would take a while for Randy to get used to his wheelchair, but Easton was right. He was lucky to be alive. Easton was also invited for dinner and Tim had extended the invitation himself, saying, "Thank you, for looking after my boys."

"It's ok, give me Tool time tickets and we'll call it even," Easton laughed.

When the 8:00 news came on, Randy and Mark saw someone they never thought they'd see again. Habbleman was being interrogated, and they had taped his confession while serving his time.

"I admit I raised a militia," Habbleman said angrily. "Or a crime group is the best term. The tool I demanded will have made our goal of overthrowing corrupt officials possible, and the city being run by us, yet in a peaceful society! We nearly had it, but the police win this round mainly because of the traitorous Indian man taking our men in the hospital. He was promised a high position, but he betrayed us, and we welcome his Arabian-like demise!"

"What a racist!" Randy yelled.

"_As we saw, the kidnapper of a local Detroit child is behind bars, and officials assure us he'll remain there for a long time," _the reporter was saying. _"Foreign Indian mover, Baboo Hamza was killed in the case that escalated into clashes resulting, despite successful efforts to save the boys, in the closure of St. Peter's Hospital of Lansing. Professor Easton McForge will next week receive his prize for the role he played._

"What about my eye, dad?" Mark asked that night.

Tim looked at Jill uncertainly. Jill decided to answer, "Well, I think the events… I don't think your eye will recover, honey. All we can do is wait, and considering that may be all, what happens is out of our hands."

"Then, I'll wear a bandanna to cover my scar, and a patch to cover my eye," Mark said to Randy, who has attacking the steak.

Randy, in the middle of his assault on the meat, looked over, grinned, and said, "Pirate boy."

"Shut up."

Usually, Randy, and Mark at times, believed events happened for reasons. Nothing was coincidence. This taught them it was true, _and_ it wasn't true. It largely depended. This assumption depended on the event. A large event, such as Mark being kidnapped, and Randy losing himself to find him, happened especially to strengthen their relationship. Yet, a small happening such as everyone running out to look for them, meant little except prove how much the two were loved. Bob Vila, while showing respect to Tim and his family, accomplished little. He might've just stayed put, and nothing would've changed.

However, this whole event did prove one thing. No matter how many fights two individuals would get into, they still loved each other. This applied to both friends and siblings. Brothers always fought, this was normal. Even children would confront their parents sometimes, but it didn't mean they hated each other. Even the best of friends could get into the biggest of fights, and always get through. This was no different.

Randy and Mark were more like each other than either of them thought or believed possible. Both of them knew there will be a day where they go their separate ways, and become interested in different things. However, whether they liked it or not, and believe me, they loved it, they were always brothers and nothing would change that.

Both of them would never, ever forget these events of 1995, as it strengthened their relationship, and made them stronger. It certainly ended the most fights they usually got into.

Randy talked to Brad, and they both talked to Mark. They agreed that as brothers, it was in their nature to fight, and they would always throw jokes at each other, but the undeniable truth was they were brothers and they loved each other dearly. All three of them.

_A/N: I'm sure you know it was suggested to me once that I kill Randy. Back at the point where they collapsed from the cold, a faithful reader PMed requested I kill him, and that Mark preserve his body in the snow. I admit I seriously considered it. But at the end, I decided to let him go. When Randy was shot, the original idea was to have him be ok, and Baboo to take them both home safely, and they'd run into Marty. Twenty chapters were extended to thirty. Instead, it turned out Randy and Mark was threatened, and Easton managed to get back in the picture. Baboo then sacrificed himself to save Easton and the boys. This story had too much. If I killed any of them, it would've been tragic. I wrote this story for a reason, and it did not require that I kill any of them. I would've had to change the genre. So, for now at least, I let Randy live. Mark's eye is up to you, but I put forth my opinion in the Epilogue nonetheless. If you, like me, believe he must remain pirate boy, you may. If you believe he must heal, you may. One thing for sure, the ski trip Mark was looking forward to, mentioned at the beginning of the story, is no-go. _

_Thank you for making this story the best I wrote. As I always say, it's not only the writer who makes a story good, it's the readers too. One is nothing without the other and this leads to a big THANK YOU to all PMers and Reviewers! Time at Military School, published two years ago, is no longer on top._

_The chapters I enjoyed writing most was The Lost Boy, (Ch. 10), A Shivering Day, (Ch. 11), Two Kinds of Luck, (Ch. 13), The End of the Line, (which I know hit all of us. Ch. 20), and The Lansing Conflict, (Ch. 26.)_

_Again, thank you, and good bye. I'll definitely be back. But for now, I need rest. _


End file.
